We're Back
by zevie
Summary: This is a very unrealistic story, and centered around Dallas AGAIN. It's postnovel, and has both Johnny and Dally in it. And TwoBit. Lots and lots of TwoBit. Rated for terrible situations and equally terrible swearing.
1. Chapter 1

We're Back Chapter 1  
  
A/N: I can't believe I'm posting this. If it's crap, tell me and I won't continue. This is a totally unrealistic story based on a dream I've had. But who cares? Anyway, the beginning will most likely suck, because it does. Is very long. And all of the guys have changed, but for good reason: set post-novel.  
  
P.S. I have a thing with Two-Bit and apples. Forgive me.  
  
~  
  
Ponyboy Curtis took a final drag off his cigarette and let it drop to the ground. Grinding it under his heel he glanced back to where his brother Darrel sat.  
  
"Hey Darry," he called "What's new in the world?"  
  
Darry sighed and closed his paper. "Not much that caught my eye yet. Guess I'm not in a reading mood today." Darry rubbed his eyes. He'd worked late again last night and the night before that and he would have been working today if his muscles hadn't been screaming for a rest. He'd see to it personally that Ponyboy had the money for college. And if he didn't have the grades…well, Darry would throttle him.  
  
"Oy there!" called a familiar voice. Ponyboy glanced up and his youthful face broke into a wan smile. "Tim. How ya been?"  
  
The lanky greasy dropped onto the grass. He nodded at Darry who smiled tiredly. He'd been a regular at the Curtis household the past six months, and, remembering the amount of time he and Dally used to spend together, Darry could guess why.  
  
"Not to shabby." Tim replied with a smile. "Guess who I spent the night with?" he added smugly. Darry rolled his eyes and turned back to his paper.  
  
"Who?" Ponyboy asked disinterestedly.  
  
Tim smirked. "Didn't catch her name actually, but she was a great lay." Ponyboy bit his lip, trying not to laugh.  
  
"Don't let Cherry hear you say that, or you most likely won't be able to 'spend the night' with anyone for awhile," Darry called from behind his paper. Tim winced at the hint, and gratefully accepted the weed Ponyboy offered. He watched the studious youth light up and a sudden thought occurred to him.  
  
"Maybe," a quick glance at Darry, and he lowered his voice, "maybe, you could try that little gal out. You know: that Soc. She'd be a great first-" he grinned again when Ponyboy blushed and laughed.  
  
"Tim, if you keep trying to influence him, I will personally see to it that Cherry hears about your girl-laying habits."  
  
"Okay, okay, jeez." Tim swore at Darry half-heartedly, then lit his smoke and settled down beside the brothers, gazing up at the cloud-free blue summer sky.  
  
May was upon them, and the beginning twinges of summer, and with it came a restored sense of peace to all. Their lives settled again, after a long period of sadness. Ponyboy breathed in the warm air, feeling for a minute like nothing had changed. He glanced down and rolled his eyes seeing Tim fast asleep on the ground. It appeared his rowdy night had taken its toll.  
  
"Darry," Ponyboy sat down beside his brother, a newly lit smoke in hand. "Weren't Steve and Soda supposed to be home by now?"  
  
~  
  
"Full house!" Sodapop declared, waving the cards in Steve's face over the Dairy Queen picnic table. "Hah! Beats your two-pair! I win! And I didn't even cheat!"  
  
Two-Bit couldn't help but laugh at the agonized expression that came over Steve's face. Steve had gloated that he was the unbeatable cards master, and (as his best friend usually sucked) readily accepted Soda's challenge: poor Steve had agreed to do whatever Soda's imaginative mind could think of, should the young heartthrob win.  
  
Now, with Soda crooning about his obvious victory, and Two-Bit as witness, Steve had no choice but to follow through with his boast.  
  
"Fine, you win. What do I gotta do?" he snapped. Soda's eyes danced.  
  
"Make him lick your shoes!" Two-Bit advised, then dodged the half-assed punch Steve threw at him. The wise-cracker smiled, but fell silent.  
  
Soda glanced wistfully at his friend. The old Two-Bit would have never shut up at that point. Turning back to Steve, Soda stroked his chin in mock deep thought. "Let's see…" he said, in a fake British accent. "I could make you bleach you hair," which received wild protests, "or go to class with no pants," a whoop from Two-Bit, "or kiss a dog's butt," gagging noises from both, "or-" he looked around. "Or, I could make you take a bite of that half-eaten apple over there."  
  
The apple had once been red, but was now a disgusting shade of brown that matched the table it rested on. It had shrunk into a grotesque version of the original, and there were several fruit flies buzzing around it. Steve turned slightly green at the though of eating the rotten fruit, but Two-Bit snorted.  
  
"Please!" He rolled his eyes. "I would do that without a second thought!" And then to demonstrate, he reached over an awestruck Sodapop's lap, grabbed the monstrous once-fruit, and took a very large, very hearty mouthful, flies included.  
  
"Oh…" Soda gasped after several seconds of silence. The two friends watched in shock as the rusty-haired greaser chowed down. "That…that has got to be the most incredible-"  
  
"Gross!" Steve said, obviously repulsed.  
  
"Amazing thing I have ever seen," Soda finished.  
  
Both boys stared, as Two-Bit chewed the last of his bite, then swallowed. He smiled at both boys. "It's not bad," he said casually, offering the 'apple' to Steve, who pushed it away with a sickened expression.  
  
Two-Bit shrugged and, much to Steve's dismay, took another bite.  
  
A loud horn brought the boys around.  
  
"Finally, she's here!" Steve exclaimed.  
  
"Race you to the car!" Soda yelled. The boys leapt off the picnic table, stumbled through across the gravel, and were brought up short by the sight of Cherry in a gleaming powder blue mustang.  
  
"Wow!" Soda said softly, and Steve let out a low whistle of awe.  
  
"Mwafst!" Two-Bit managed, as a small chunk of slobbery apple fell from his mouth.  
  
"Lovely." Her voice dripping with sarcasm, the redhead shook back her mane of curls and gave Two-Bit an incredulous stare. "You can't expect me to let you in my graduation present with you're foaming at the mouth!"  
  
Two-Bit rolled his eyes, and spat out his mouthful. Once a Soc, always a Soc.  
  
"This is some grad present." Soda's eyes were like saucers.  
  
"I'll say! What kind of mileage can you get on this thing?" Steve leaned forward, placing his hands on the sides of the car, then thought better of it and moved back.  
  
Cherry laughed and opened to door to her friends. "No idea. Come on, if y'all are any more late than you already are, Darry will kill me."  
  
The three boys got slowly into the car, staring all the while. This was for sure the top of the line in transportation.  
  
The mustang roared and jumped ahead.  
  
"What happened to the Sting Ray?" Soda shouted over the engine, his hands pressed against his hair, trying to hold it flat.  
  
Cherry grinned, curls flying, as she slowly pressed down on the gas pedal. Steve gasped and Two-Bit whooped as the speedometer hit 90.  
  
"It didn't go fast enough," Cherry said simply, then let the car slow down as they approached the Curtis household.  
  
Two-Bit grinned knowingly at Soda. He was convinced that Dallas had left a trace of his spirit in Cherry, and no one, not Steve with his scorn, nor Darry with his reason could convince him otherwise. Especially not when she was driving.  
  
"Jesus Christ!" Tim sat up. "Man, hearing that engine I was sure Two-Bit was driving."  
  
Soda jumped from the car giving Tim a 'hello' punch on the arm. "What's up Darry!" he called. His brother was again absorbed in his paper. He muttered back something indecipherable.  
  
Ponyboy gave Cherry a smile and waved. Cherry waved back, then started the car again, and before he could blink she was gone down the street. Ponyboy laughed. In the six months since Dally's death, Cherry had received more speeding tickets than both Two-Bit and Steve could get in a year. With one last glance after the girl, he turned back to his friends.  
  
"Man," Tim was complaining, a standard scowl on his face. "You guys don't do anything. Boring as hell sitting around here."  
  
Two-Bit squinted at him. "Then why do you keep coming back?"  
  
Tim shrugged. "Beats the hell outta me."  
  
Darry let out a sudden whoop. "Nothing huh? How about this!" He pointed excitedly at a small article, hidden between a large madras skirt ad, and the horoscopes.  
  
Tim batted the paper away irritably. "You know I don't read."  
  
"You mean can't," Steve muttered.  
  
"You wanna start something?" Tim glared at the younger boy.  
  
Steve was on his feet in an instant. "Yeah, well maybe I do!" When Tim didn't stand, Soda tugged at Steve's shirtsleeve. The greaser sat down reluctantly, muttering to himself angrily. He'd inherited his father's explosive temper and it had only grown worse this past year.  
  
"What is it?" Ponyboy asked, turning the center of attention back to Darry who was uncharacteristically bouncy.  
  
"This article," he said, then paused. "Well, it was a thrill to read it I guess. But it's probably just bull."  
  
Soda took the paper from Darry. "'Local Hospital Attempts the Impossible,'" he read slowly. He gave Darry a questioning look, then continued.  
  
"'St Jacobs Hospital and George Garfield Science Department have recently engaged in a fruitless study of bringing a person back to life. If tests prove positive, scientist Jonathan Burgman and surgeon Larry Wittles will have achieved a higher level of immortality than mankind had ever hoped to imagine.' You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"Ooh!" Steve said sarcastically.  
  
"'The hospital, which is attempting this experiment for extra funds, is saying there is no hoax and nothing to hide. They are holding the tests in their own facilities, this month of April, and are willing to answer any questions.' Then there's a list of a bunch of people they're doing it on."  
  
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Two-Bit said flatly.  
  
"You call this exciting?" Tim snorted. "Man, you need to get out more."  
  
"Well, I thought it was interesting," Darry replied defensively. "Especially since one of the test subjects is-"  
  
"JOHN CADE!" Soda shrieked suddenly. "No f***ing way!" [A/N: I'm trying not to swear.]  
  
"You're kidding!" Steve jerked his head up, eyes wide.  
  
"They're doing it on every person who's died in the past year and wasn't buried." Soda's eyes scanned the paper. "Wow, that a lot of folk."  
  
"The past year? That means…" Tim sat up suddenly, looking much more interested than he'd been before.  
  
"Yeah both of 'em. Dally too."  
  
"How dare they! Don't they have any respect for dead people?" Steve was seething.  
  
"Aww, come off it Steve. If they do succeed you'd be happy like the rest of us," Ponyboy spoke up. The group glanced at the boy, then exchanged apprehensive looks.  
  
"Now, Ponyboy. Don't get your hopes up," Darry said gently. "It probably won't happen. It's definitely been impossible before."  
  
Ponyboy shook his head, frowning. "If there's one thing life's taught me, it's that you SHOULD hope."  
  
~  
  
"I'm afraid there's no hope, Mrs. Prop. We've done everything we can."  
  
Eleanor could hear the doctor talking to her mother through the open door. She wanted to squeeze his neck until his head burst. How dare he give up on her! Fighting against unconsciousness, Eleanor forced her eyes open. He mother gazed down at her, tears shining in her loving eyes.  
  
"I love you sweetie. I always will," she murmured. A wave of pain rocked Eleanor's body and her vision went blurry.  
  
'Stupid James!' She thought furiously. If he hadn't drunk so much she would be fine. If he hadn't insisted on driving, she wouldn't be fighting for her life. If he'd just let her out of the car…boys were all alike. Stupid and immoral and thoughtless.  
  
Another stab of pain went through her and she felt herself lose control. She rocketed down into darkness.  
  
'No!' she screamed soundlessly. She wouldn't die; she couldn't, not like this…  
  
~  
  
Ponyboy wandered through the hospital, clutching Soda's arms tightly. He hated hospitals. But he wanted to find out about that article and no stupid fear was going to stop him.  
  
Darry watched his younger brothers as they walked slowly down the hall. The hospital was filled with strange sounds and strange smells and even Darry was starting to feel uneasy.  
  
"I thought they were buried," Steve muttered angrily. Darry rolled his eyes. The hotheaded greaser had insisted on coming, then had done nothing but complain the whole time. He was pissed because the doctors hadn't asked permission to use their bodies.  
  
"And who would they ask?" Darry had demanded once, his own temper rising as Steve's tirade continued. Steve had fallen silent for nearly two minutes before resuming his muttered complaint.  
  
"Did you know they weren't buried?"  
  
"Actually I did," Darry said then regretted it immediately.  
  
"What?! What happened to them?" Steve demanded, but at that moment Two- Bit's head poked around the door of one hospital room.  
  
"Steve?" he asked.  
  
"Two-Bit!" Both Darry and Steve cried in unison. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
Two-Bit shrugged looking sheepish. "I thought I'd check out about that article. Sounded interesting. Tim's in the waiting room. He drove me – my car's out again, Steve, do ya think you could look at it?"  
  
"Did you know they weren't buried?" Steve demanded ignoring Two-Bit's question.  
  
Two-Bit blinked, then shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, Darry told me, they were given to the hospital or something, for people who needed new kidneys or something. Or something like that," he added meekly.  
  
"Oh! My! God! And you didn't tell me?" Steve shook his head indignantly, and stalked off after Soda, leaving Darry behind.  
  
"Doubtful they coulda used much though, seeing as their lungs were ruined and Dally's liver was probably useless," Darry commented smirking.  
  
Two-Bit grinned smugly. "Come on, help me hunt for 'em. They got a bunch of people with electronics things in them around here, but I can't find neither Dally or Johnny." Before Darry could say a thing, he was being dragged by the arm across the hall and into another room.  
  
This room held nothing but an empty bed and some weird equipment. "Nope," Two-Bit said needlessly.  
  
"Hey! What are you doing?" Both men looked up at the sound of the angry voice. A doctor was striding towards them, looking not at all happy.  
  
"You aren't supposed to be here!" he shouted.  
  
"Sorry-" Darry started, but then Two-Bit's instincts kicked in and Darry found himself being dragged from the room, and through another door, the doctors yells echoing around him.  
  
Both boys broke out in a run now, Darry giving in to Two-Bit's idea.  
  
"Go!" he hissed, following Two-Bit through a mass of doors and rooms until the pair were thoroughly lost. They skidded to a stop in yet another room with one significant difference: there was only one door, and they'd come through it. Groaning, Darry leaned back against the wall, while Two-Bit hurriedly jammed the lock.  
  
"Good going," Darry snapped sarcastically. "Now what?"  
  
But Two-Bit wasn't looking at him. He was gazing past, his eyes wide, a slow grin forming on his mouth.  
  
"Hey, hey! Look who we found," he murmured. Darry whipped around, and sure enough, resting in the bed with wired attached all over him, blond hair scattered over the pillow, his skin paler than it'd ever been in life was a very dead Dally Winston.  
  
"Where'd they go?"  
  
Darry winced, hearing the muffled voice. Two-Bit glanced at the door and put a finger to his lips.  
  
"I don't know. They better not have gone in there, that one's scheduled to go off any minute." The doorknob rattled and then furious cursing filled the air.  
  
Two-Bit grinned at Darry, a bit of his old boldness showing through. "Hey, it even SOUNDS like Dally's alive already!"  
  
Darry glowered at the other, as the door was hit repeatedly.  
  
"Shit! Get security up here-"  
  
"Oh great! You hear that? Security! We're dead f***ing meat, now." Darry hissed.  
  
Two-Bit waved him off, wandering around the bed. "Jeez, he looks different," he murmured, reaching out to the bed. "Hey, hey what's this?" his hand shifted course suddenly, hovering over a small metal switch.  
  
"Two-Bit-" Darry started warningly, but it was too late.  
  
The room exploded with electricity. Two-Bit let out a yell, and fell back, scrambling to get away from the bed. Dally's body jerked under the voltage, sparks flying. Darry could feel his hair standing on end.  
  
"Turn it off!" he screamed, and Two-Bit struggled up and leapt for the switch, the snap, and crackle (and pop) of static electricity surging around him. The power died suddenly and the room plunged into darkness.  
  
~  
  
Eleanor woke slowly, feeling groggy but victorious. She'd done it. She wasn't dead. Stupid doctor. Wherever she was now it was dark, no different from unconsciousness, but she was sure she was alive. But she was tired, so tired, and she had to struggled to stay awake.  
  
"Hello?" she tried to say, but only a strangled sound emerged from her throat.  
  
Then she heard the sound, like a scraping of metal on metal, and a tiny light flared. The flame grew slowly lighting up the person who held it. Eleanor found herself staring up into the hugest, more ridiculous grin she'd ever seen.  
  
"Hey Darry!" The boy whispered, turning away. "He's aliiiive." Then his gaze was back on Eleanor.  
  
"Welcome back, Dallas Winston," he said, giving Eleanor a small wave, a look of triumph on his face, before she plunged into a deep sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

We're Back Chapter 2  
  
A/N: I guess this is going to be mainly an attempted humour fic, seeing as the plot seems secondary to the gags. Sorry, the jokes are a bit, er, STALE. HAHAHAHA. You'll get it when the gum bit comes up. And chances are you won't laugh. Sigh. This chapter isn't so good, minus the beginning if I do say so myself.  
  
P.S. Dally will come in soon. Somewhere…  
  
P.P.S. Oh my god oh my god, I'm obsessed with Two-Bit as well as Dallas! That accounts for the many Matthews shenanigans. Whatever, here it is (finally right? I need to stop the A/Ns I really do):  
  
~  
  
The first thing Eleanor felt when she awoke, was the violent urge to pee. There was light now, coming from a window shining across the bedspread in a flood of golden warmth.  
  
The door opened and a nurse walked in, her curled brown hair pinned up under a white hat.  
  
"Hello, you're awake," she said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I gotta go to the bathroom," Eleanor blurted out, before she could stop herself. The nurse laughed and reached a hand toward Eleanor.  
  
"Sure thing honey, that's what the others said. Not that there were many. But there were a few, and those ones always said they needed a bathroom straightaway. You've been out for awhile after all. Lemme help you up here." The nurse helped Eleanor from the bed, shuffling her IV to the side. Eleanor stood, and on wobbly legs, made her way to the bathroom, not 5 feet away.  
  
"Here you are, I'll leave you alone from here. Holler if you need help." The nurse winked then shut the door, leaving Eleanor to do her business in private. The girl watched the nurse leave, wondering what on earth the lady was talking about. But, the strain on her bladder was too much, and, shrugging off the nurse's comments, she flipped up the spotted hospital gown…and got the shock of her 16-year-old life.  
  
Jerking her hands away, Eleanor looked up in horror, then spied herself in the bathroom mirror. Only it wasn't herself. Instead of her dusky brown complexion, and close-cropped black hair, she was staring at a shocked pale face, with eyes the colour of jeans, and the lightest hair she'd ever seen, almost down to her shoulders.  
  
Eleanor snapped her eyes shut. 'Oh my Lord,' she thought frantically. This had to be some bizarre sort of dream. Slowly, she peeked up through her eyelashes, pale brown short eyelashes instead of her thick, curly, black ones. The face was still there, still pale and terrorised and so male she was tempted to hurl. The eyes seemed unnaturally large, staring out of the thin face, and they'd widened even more in amazement. Eleanor pinched herself roughly, but nothing happened, besides the pale thin nose wrinkling slightly at the pain. Eleanor leaned forward, tapping the glass to make sure it was real, and that was when she noticed them: freckles. Pale, and few, but they were there scattered across what was now her nose.  
  
"Aaarrgh!" She screamed. There was a smart rapping on the door.  
  
"Alright dear?" The nurse's concerned voice called through.  
  
"Fine, I'm fine!" Eleanor croaked, and now she noticed the voice wasn't hers, but a low tenor and that fact almost made her yell again. For a minute she was tempted to call the nurse in and tell her the truth: this was not her body.  
  
"Yeah, sure Eleanor," she muttered. "Call the nice lady in and tell her there is something down there that was never there before and should never be there, and that your eyes are too light, and you look like you're wearing a peroxided wig, and there are freckles on a nose that is too thin, and too pointy and," she glanced down, "your legs badly need a shaving."  
  
But she doubted the nurse would believe her, and she certainly didn't want to end up in some mental institution. No, she'd have to figure this out herself. After she peed.  
  
Eleanor swallowed, glancing down at the toilet. She didn't want to have to do this, but it appeared she had no choice: if she didn't, her bladder was likely to explode. Slowly, holding her breath, she reached beneath the gown.  
  
'Peeing standing up is highly overrated,' Eleanor thought darkly.  
  
~  
  
"You are the stupidest man, no BOY, I have ever, EVER had the misfortune of meeting. I can't believe you. I just…I can't believe you." Darry slumped down on the metal bench, completely spent. He'd been ranting for the past hour and all he'd got was a maddeningly casual: "Sorry dude." Two-Bit was lying on the bench across their jail cell, with a look of vague indifference on his face.  
  
"Man, social service is gonna KILL me for this one," Darry complained. "Me and Soda and Pony might get split up! Didja think of that? Huh? Didja?" Two- Bit, however was tugging at a loose thread in his jeans and wasn't listening.  
  
"Darrel," he yawned, "when d'you think they'll feed us?"  
  
"I…don't know." Darry sighed, reaching up to message his temples. It was no use arguing with the guy; he was just too damn easygoing.  
  
Two-Bit looked up at his friend and felt a fleeting stab of guilt. "Look man, you've never been in jail. They'll let you off easy most like." Darry said nothing, and his eyes stayed closed. Sighing loudly, Two-Bit rolled off his metal couch and clomped to the wall of steel bars. Grasping two firmly in his hands he shook them violently and wailed, "Let us o-o-out!"  
  
Darry jerked up and stared. "What – what are you doing?"  
  
Two-Bit let go of the bars and gave Darry a pleading look. "Come on, I'm trying! Forgive me?"  
  
Darry gave him a look then dropped his head in his hands.  
  
Two-Bit glanced back at his friend. His wit having failed him, he sucked it up and prepared to apologise. "Look man, I'm sorry. I just didn't think." Two-Bit scuffed the bottom of his shoe over the dirty floor. "I'm sorry," he repeated, to no avail. He leaned back heavily on the wall, giving himself up to the idea of cold silence for awhile.  
  
Darry glanced through his fingers up at Two-Bit. "I wouldn't touch that wall if I was you. Smells like piss," he muttered.  
  
Two-Bit looked up quickly, but Darry had already gone back to messaging his temples. "At least Dally's alive," he said suddenly. Darry smiled into his palms. The fact astounded him. Dallas should be dead, like he'd been when they'd walked in that room (or rather, ran into that room). Darry shuddered, remembering the lifeless way he'd been lying on the bed.  
  
"I mean, it's an improvement on his previous condition. I've been losing my ability to swear lately, and I miss not having someone to punch me in the mouth when I said something smart," Two-Bit continued hopefully.  
  
Darry grunted. "I'd do it for ya."  
  
"I know you would," Two-Bit said softly. And then, suddenly sick of the argument, he threw himself forward, and crawled on his knees to his astonished friend.  
  
"Please, please forgive me!" he begged. "I'll kiss the floor – and that's saying something in jail."  
  
Darry couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I forgive you."  
  
"Hug?" Two-Bit was pushing it, but Darry rolled his eyes and gripped the other in a short hug. His hand clamped down on something sticky, and sure enough, it returned with strings of a dry pink rubbery substance leading from it to Two-Bit's back. Darry stared at it and then at the stale, dried gum covering the wall from years past. Hygiene was obviously not a concern of most jailbirds.  
  
"Eh…" Two-Bit grimaced at the gum trailing off his friend's hand. "Uh," he pulled the checkered shirt off quickly, "here, YOU can HAVE it." Darry made a face, untangling the gum from his hand.  
  
"Nah, take it back, I don't think I could stand seeing you in an undershirt for more than 5 seconds."  
  
Two-Bit shrugged, and pulled his undershirt off, tossing the sweaty garment at Darry. "Ok, take it all," he replied. Then he unzipped his jeans. "Want these too…?"  
  
"NO!" Darry pushed the clothing away from him. "Jeez don't you have any modesty?"  
  
"Nope!" Two-Bit replied proudly. "I let it all, you know, hang out…"  
  
"Enough!" Darry held up his hand.  
  
"Darrel Curtis?" Both boys looked up. An apprehensive policeman was looking from one to the other.  
  
"Uh, that'd be me," Darry said quickly.  
  
"Ah, well. You're to come with me then." The guard, looking relieved, lead Darry away, leaving Two-Bit alone with his gummy shirt.  
  
Two-Bit sighed, then said loudly, "Just when our relationship was getting somewhere." Then he smiled, and leaned back, letting the echoes of Darry's mortified swearing lull him into a peaceful sleep.  
  
A/N: My chapters always seem to end with someone falling asleep. (Random fact.) 


	3. Chapter 3

1 We're Back Chapter 3  
  
Eleanor leaned back, resting her head on the pillows. She tugged the pristine white sheets around her self-consciously, watching the nurse putter around her room. She still wasn't sure that she wouldn't turn back into a girl any second and send the nurse screaming to her supervisor. The woman was trying to be nice, talking, asking questions, but Eleanor was too freaked out by her new voice to respond with more than, "Mmmm?" and an occasional sage-like nod.  
  
There came a knock on the door, and the nurse, with a glance over to where Eleanor was, walked swiftly over to answer it. Four pairs of curious eyes glinted, and then, before the nurse could say a word about visiting hours, she was stampeded by the small crowd of excited boys. Muttering to herself about unruly boys (Eleanor secretly agreed) the nurse left, flipping off the boys' backs, in a very unladylike way.  
  
"Oh my gosh, it's true!" The smallish one said in an awe-hushed tone.  
  
"This is crazy!" Was the much louder opinion of what seemed (in Eleanor's mind) to be the craziest one in the bunch. The boy, though fiendishly good looking, was making faces and hopping about in such a way that made Eleanor wonder if he didn't have to go to the bathroom as badly as she had had to.  
  
"I don't believe it." The words, slow and drawling, emerged from a greasy looking boy, with a hairstyle that must have taken hours to fix.  
  
"Yeah, well me neither." Each boy jumped back when Eleanor spoke, and she couldn't help feeling a little irritated. She was breathing, her eyes were blinking, and they clearly knew she was alive, so why in that name of it all would they not expect her to say something?  
  
"Whoa hey!" The tallest one there, with dark hair and dark eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, then added with a sheepish smile, "it's weird hearing that voice after so long. Good to have you back Dallas."  
  
Eleanor snorted. "What did you call me?" she demanded, trying to ignore the way her voice cracked when she tried to speak in her normal range. Giving up, she added in a deeper tone, "do I look like a state to you?"  
  
Again the boys seemed startled.  
  
"Glory," murmured the nice-looking one, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I never thought…I guess his memory…"  
  
"Dallas ain't a state anyway," the young one said absently. "But that's your name…your name is Dallas-"  
  
"I gathered," Eleanor replied dryly. She was beginning to feel very annoyed with them. She should have known they'd just be pests. They were boys after all.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter, and gave the handsome one a look. "Well, while we're learning names, who the hell are you?" Then she almost jumped hearing herself swear. She never swore, it was uncouth, but the word just seemed to fly right out of her mouth.  
  
The boy gave her a worried look, and stopped his obscene hopping. "Maybe we should call the doctors," he said softly, "he doesn't seem like he-"  
  
"I said 'who the hell are you'!" Eleanor yelled suddenly. Everyone, including herself jumped again. She hadn't meant to yell it out loud, only to think it, but it appeared her mouth had other ideas.  
  
Then the tall one grinned crookedly, and a glint came to his eyes. He looked, actually, fairly mean, as she noticed now. She was beginning to regret having yelled.  
  
But he only laughed, and shook his head. "Aww, he'll be fine. Seems quite himself actually." Then he laughed again, sending chills down her spine.  
  
'God, you're creepy,' she thought, and then suddenly she was saying it.  
  
'Damn,' she thought furiously as the boys exchanged more looks. Then she shook herself, realising she'd sworn yet again. Apparently she now had no more control of her mouth than any other ruddy, dipstick boy did. Rubbing her eyes, she felt a sudden fierce desire inside her, growing steadily in a dull throb until it formed a clear and almost desperate sentence in her mind:  
  
"I want a cigarette."  
  
Eleanor, with her strong morals and firm ideas, had never, ever, in her entire life, touched a cigarette.  
  
Now, reaching with a shaky hand to light the smoke offered to her by the man she would learn to call 'Tim', Eleanor had the distinct feeling that something very fishy was going on. And she thought maybe, maybe, that it had something to do with the owner of the body she was in.  
  
~  
  
"Now, Mr. Curtis, I think your family will be fine."  
  
Darry slumped back into the metal chair, feeling very relieved. That had been his main worry.  
  
"Social services sees no reason to separate you, though, we do need to investigate your home place. Just to be sure…you know." The woman across from him winked, and licked her over-lipsticky lips seductively. Darry gave her a suspicious look.  
  
"You're sure there's nothing wrong?" he asked slowly. "Cause before, they said if I got arrested it might cause problems…"  
  
"Only for a major crime," the woman said quickly. "For these smaller matters we see no reason in causing problems." Giving him a saucy smile, the Social Service lady gently rubbed his jean-clad leg with one high- heeled foot. Darry felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.  
  
"Uh, ok…well, when do you think Social Services would be coming to my, uh, home place?" He shifted uncomfortably, away from the lady's foot. The woman leaned forward, placing her elbows on the metal table, and batting her eyes ridiculously at him.  
  
"Let's say…Friday? At about 7?" Darry gritted his teeth, and ordered himself to sit still, though his first instinct was to get up, and run like mad.  
  
"Oh…ok…"  
  
"DARLENE!" A loud voice barked. Both Darry and the woman looked up. Another woman dressed in a smart black skirt and white blouse was frowning over the tops of her glasses at the Social Service lady. "I'LL handle it from here," she said crisply. Darlene gulped, and, casting one last look at Darry, scuttled out of the room. The woman seated herself in Darlene's vacated chair and gave Darry a very stern disapproving look.  
  
"I wasn't flirting."  
  
The woman raised her eyebrows.  
  
"What?"  
  
She lowered her glasses, and snorted softly.  
  
"I WASN'T."  
  
After a minute, the woman gave up. "Yes, alright I believe you." Her voice carried a trace of English accent. "I apologise for my co-worker's behaviour," she nodded contemptuously at the crack in the door through which Darlene was peeking. Darlene squeaked and vanished. The woman rolled her eyes. "Most of the women in my line of work don't take it seriously."  
  
Darry nodded mutely. Privately, he thought that it was rather odd for the women to be working anyway.  
  
"I'm Ms. Davies, I'll be taking your case now." She offered her hand to Darry. He shook it and hesitantly asked her a question.  
  
"Will you be coming on Friday at 7 then?"  
  
The woman looked startled, then smiled faintly and shook her head.  
  
"Because, if you were, you could maybe stay for dinner," Darry went on boldly. If this woman was anything at all like the first, it'd get him off the hook easily.  
  
Ms. Davies looked startled, then gave Darry a genuine smile. "Well," she said shyly, "I might." Then she seemed to shake herself. She squared her shoulders and pushed up her glasses. "But only after I investigate your home place."  
  
Darry swallowed and nodded. "You have the address?"  
  
"In your file," she said, in a slightly bored tone. "Thank you, Mr. Curtis- "  
  
"It's Darry," he said quickly.  
  
"Thank you, MR. CURTIS, that will be all." And then, the guard was hauling Darry up and dragging him by the armpits back to the cell and a curious (and talkative) Two-Bit.  
  
Ms. Davies collected her papers, and swiftly tucked in her chair. Then she paused. Whipping out a compact, she smoothed back her limp brown hair and frowned at her reflection. Snapping the compact shut, she strode quickly from the room – and right into Darlene.  
  
"Isn't he handsome!" the red-haired bimbo gushed. "Oh you're so lucky – you get to go to his house!" And then Ms. Davies had to plug her ears, as Darlene let out a squeal that would wake a dead man.  
  
~  
  
Halfway across town, the city's surgeons were not having such good luck. After the miracle with the tow-headed teen, their electric machines had failed to do anything other than fry a few hairs on the bodies. Not even Larry Wittles or Jonathan Burgman could figure out their own project. This was causing tremendous problems for their sponsors. Seated in huge conference rooms, with large windows, the setting sun casting shadows over a broad and well polished oak table, the wealthy men scratched their heads and pondered the odd occurrence (martini's in tow). With the failure of their scientists, and the distastefulness of the subject (their bulbous noses wrinkled at the image of the young blond), there was but one remaining option.  
  
"Dr. Burgman," said the wealthiest, snapping his fingers at the younger scientist, who scurried over, his head bowed.  
  
"Yessir?" he asked, very timidly.  
  
Draining his glass, the man waved a hand arrogantly through the air. "Have a Mr. Keith Matthews brought in, Dr. Burgman. And get me another martini." 


	4. Chapter 4

1 We're Back Chapter 4  
  
A/N: Hello all! Thank you much for the reviews! By the way, Sugarmonkey...Eleanor, ruin Dally's rep? Oh, she will DESTROY it. Crush it, grind it into tiny pieces and blast it into oblivion (yeah, I'm a Star Wars fanatic. Horror of horrors). Mwahaha…ok sorry, it's my birthday and I'm hyper. But, I kinda think she will ruin it.  
  
P.S. I got writer's block. This chapter moves really slowly and somewhat uselessly. It'll go somewhere later.  
  
P.P.S. I'm swearing again. Too hard not to.  
  
~  
  
Steve licked his lips, eyes flicking madly back and forth between his own hands and Soda's eyes. His best friend's face remained impassive, his eyes stony and unforgiving. There was no way Soda would back down. He stood firm, a tiny smile crossing his lips as Steve finally spoke:  
  
"Ya got any aces?"  
  
From where she lay, immobilised by the weight on her legs, Eleanor let out a loud groan. She'd given up being self-conscious within around them after the first hour. The two boys looked up.  
  
"You aren't going to win," she said frankly, rolling her eyes at Steve. "He's beaten you the last 5 games. Give it up man! You suck at cards."  
  
Steve shoved off her legs and scowled. "I don't suck. HE sucks. And anyway, it's a matter of life and death here. You don't know what he could make me do. This morning-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah you told me. About a million times and you've only been here for 2 hours. ILLEGITIMATE hours, by the way," she added, "seeing as visitors aren't allowed-"  
  
"Illegitimate?"  
  
"Wow, when did you grow a brain?"  
  
Eleanor sighed. The two had teased her whenever she said anything remotely intelligent until she'd lapsed into silence, helplessly watching them deal another round. She was beginning to be very frustrated with the person she was living in. For starters, he was a smoker (her body told her as much) and apparently did drugs and drunk girls, if Tim was trustworthy enough (though, she wasn't sure if he was). Not to mention he didn't know diddlysquat.  
  
"Illegitimate means it's ILLEGAL," she said crossly, and Steve laughed.  
  
"So we're here illegally?" Soda grinned at her. "Well, hey, just following in your footsteps, you know?"  
  
"Aren't you happy? Go fish, by the way," Steve told Soda.  
  
"Thrilled," Eleanor replied through gritted teeth. So she was a criminal too. She wasn't sure she could take being a doufus much longer without going stark raving mad.  
  
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, trying to move her legs out from underneath Sodapop. The bathroom was beginning to look appealing again. She shuddered involuntarily; she hadn't enjoyed her toilet experience and wasn't looking to repeat it. But sooner or later…  
  
Eleanor watched silently as Soda won yet another round. But when Steve began to deal again (saying loudly that he'd win for sure THIS time) she lost it.  
  
"No! Not again! Look this is stupid. You're here bothering me just because you lost some bet-"  
  
"An important bet!" Steve protested.  
  
"Oh for…boys are so dumb…" she trailed off, catching the looks the pair gave her. "Uh you…YOU boys are so dumb."  
  
"Ye-ah," Steve said slowly, giving her a weird look.  
  
"You know, you're a boy too. You're still 17," Soda added, his own weird look pasted on his face.  
  
Eleanor sighed. She couldn't have just been 16. Only one little year difference, but it annoyed her all the same.  
  
'Gotta memorise a new birthday,' she thought tiredly. "Fuck," she said out loud, then winced at the sound, and promised not to say that intentionally ever again.  
  
"Yeah, fuck is right…I'm just as old as you are now," Soda teased. "Had my birthday while you were, uh…"  
  
"Dead?" Eleanor supplied eagerly, watching with delight as both boys squirmed.  
  
An awkward silence followed; she'd effectively killed the mood. But on the other hand, the two were actually quiet.  
  
Then Steve cleared his throat. "Um. My birthday's coming up soon," he said, "so…I'll be a year older than both of you."  
  
"Aww shut up," Soda returned playfully.  
  
"When's my birthday?" Eleanor spoke up.  
  
Steve and Soda exchanged yet another glance. It felt weird, telling their friend things he should have had ingrained in his memory.  
  
"Your birthday was in…January. I think," Steve said slowly.  
  
"The 24th," Soda added.  
  
"Yeah, and I guess…1951," Steve chirped.  
  
"Don't know what day-"  
  
"1951!" Eleanor screeched. "You have got to be kidding me…I'm 17!"  
  
Steve laughed. "Yeah, strange isn't it? It's eighteen years after you were born, but you're only 17-"  
  
"18 years," Eleanor babbled, "it's…it's…"  
  
"1969," Soda said grinning. "See Steve? He ain't too smart yet."  
  
"You…you just shut up," Eleanor shook her head, gasping slightly. It seemed being male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal was not enough…she'd have to be male, a druggie, a smoker, and a criminal nearly 20 years before she would be born. Which meant none of her friends were alive, and her parents would be…  
  
"What…about…my parents?" she managed. The word felt funny on her tongue, which scared her – if the person she was now didn't talk about his parents ever, that didn't say much for them.  
  
"Never met them," Soda said quietly. "You don't really talk that much about them…remember?"  
  
"No…no I don't remember," Eleanor snapped. "I don't remember any goddamn- mother-fucking…ah…don't remember any STUPID thing! And now – now I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN!" She was sure she'd cry. Eleanor had never placed any importance on crying; it was just something you did when you were sad, to clean your system. But obviously, boys in the 60s didn't like to cry, and, also obviously, the other two were quite freaked out by her actions.  
  
"Listen," Steve said, backing away slowly, "maybe we should go…let you get some sleep."  
  
"Are you okay?" Soda asked. He looked completely shocked. "You're not…not really yourself. You don't need help? I mean, the bathroom's right there." He tried to laugh, but he looked worried.  
  
"I don't want to go to the bathroom," Eleanor replied glumly. Her eyes stung, but they were completely dry; she wanted to cry, wanted to purge herself of the misery, but the body was not co-operating.  
  
"O-k," Steve said slowly, "well, that's your business…we should go."  
  
"Yeah, I'm not sure I trust Tim with Ponyboy so long. You sure you're okay?"  
  
'No,' Eleanor thought furiously, 'I am not 'okay'! I'm not anywhere near 'okay'!' She opened her mouth, but Steve beat her too it.  
  
"He'll be fine. He's Dallas Winston. Soda?" Steve opened his eyes wide and motioned to the door. Soda nodded, and, casting one last look in Eleanor's direction, followed Steve.  
  
Dallas Winston. Eleanor groaned softly. She could learn to hate that name. She was in over her head for sure. Her mind was a whirling mass of confusion, and on top of it all, she wasn't sure she could even get to the bathroom by herself.  
  
Eleanor tried to push herself off the bed – then gasped as pain shot through her. It felt like she'd been impaled on a bed of nails, spots of white-hot pain scattered over her body. She jerked up the thin fabric that barely clothed her, but her flat chest was covered in bandage. Slowly, she sank back against the pillow, cursing herself for not having spoken up when Soda asked if she needed help.  
  
"Stupid boys," she muttered, jabbing her thumb at the nurse-call button, "always there to annoy you, but when you really need their help, they're nowhere in sight. Hate them. HATE BOYS!" she shouted, then winced again as pain shot through her chest. Her throat quivered, but no tears fell. Frustrated beyond belief, Eleanor buried her face in the pillow, hoping the nurse came quickly before she wet herself.  
  
A/N: That sucked. Where's Two-Bit? (These notes help me somehow.) 


	5. Chapter 5

1 We're Back Chapter 5  
  
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back! Miss me? Anyway, I haven't kicked the stupid writer's block, but who cares, here's the next chapter. It may suck, but y'all know why now. Anyway, would just like to say (write?) that I have still been reading and reviewing and your stories are all so good! They are fantastically enjoyable to read! And so now I'm back, answering your creative storms with a chapter of my own, and though I may not word things as eloquently as I'd wish to, I beg of you…review! Tell me how I'm screwing up! And, um, enjoy, I suppose.  
  
P.S. Really, I haven't A/Ned for so long, did you think I'd stop there? Really I have nothing more to say, except I can't seem to express how well you all are writing! There are so many amazing stories out there!!! SO…anyone still reading this, keep on writing!  
  
~  
  
"Where in the name of the Almighty have YOU been?"  
  
Sodapop looked up, startled to hear his brother's angry voice. Darry was glaring at him, hands on hips, an expectant look on his face.  
  
"Ponyboy and I have been waiting around for you for an hour! You'd better have a good excuse."  
  
Ponyboy bit his lip and tried not to smile. For once, HE wasn't the one being yelled at. He quite liked it.  
  
"I was visiting Dallas," Soda said slowly, looking somewhat bewildered.  
  
Darry dropped his arms. "Oh." He grimaced for a minute, trying to decide whether to continue being pissed, or ask about his miracle friend. It didn't take long for him to give in to his curiosity.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"Completely insane," Soda groaned. He wrenched open the door to the fridge, and pulled out a beer. "He got all crazy when me an Steve told him what year it was, and I think he's got something against bathrooms." He snapped of the cap of his beer, watching the cold condensation run down the bottle and onto his fingers. "He seems a little smarter though."  
  
Darry snorted. "Yeah, we'll see. Next time tell me before you go running around town. And," he grabbed the bottle from Soda's hand, "gimme that! You ain't 21 yet little buddy." Shaking his head, Darry took a gulp of beer. "Get you into trouble, this stuff will."  
  
Soda rolled his eyes, and opened the refrigerator again.  
  
"You're one to talk about trouble," Ponyboy said quietly, walking back to the living room. He turned, and shot his brother a rare grin. "You're the one the fuzz hauled in today, not us," he added smugly.  
  
Darry nearly spat out his beer. As it was, he turned a very dark, tomato- ish shade of red.  
  
Soda laughed, and, his new beer in hand, he followed Pony to the living room, giving his younger brother a high five on the way. He liked seeing Ponyboy smiling, something the youngster had been doing more and more of late.  
  
"That was completely Two-Bit's fault," Darry spluttered, opening his eyes wide and trying to look innocent. He failed.  
  
Ponyboy smiled again. "Yeah, like Two-Bit could have dragged you all the way through the hospital. Cops told us the story," he added, noting Darry's surprised look. "If you really hadn't wanted to run, Two-Bit couldn't have moved you to save his life."  
  
Soda grinned, and wiggled his eyebrows and Ponyboy. "Looks like we got a convict in the family Pony."  
  
Darry smiled wanly, watching his brothers laugh. Drawing himself up, he tried to collect what was left of his dignity.  
  
"Yeah, well this could affect us all you know," he said pointedly. "If social services doesn't like me, we won't be living together much longer."  
  
Both he and Sodapop looked at Ponyboy. Since Soda's 17th birthday, Pony had been the only Curtis left who was in real danger of being put in a boy's home. Ponyboy groaned inwardly. He hated when his brothers got all overprotective. And he hated being pitied even more. He stopped smiling and gave them both a dark look.  
  
"Hey, don't get mad," Soda said gently. "We just don't want 'em Social Security people taking you away."  
  
He said it so simply, and it made so much sense, that Ponyboy almost felt guilty for being angry.  
  
"Look," Darry said suddenly. "The lady's coming on Friday. So we have two days to get this house clean. If she likes our 'home place' we'll be fine." He jumped up and surveyed the living room. Dirty laundry was piled in one corner, there was a large red-ish stain on one wall from when Two-Bit had thrown a slice of pizza at Tim and missed, and there were empty plates scattered around, with the crumbly remains of chocolate cake growing stale on them.  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Don't sweat it Darrel," Soda said, lazily slurping beer. "We got two whole days."  
  
Ponyboy took one look at the incredulous open-mouthed stare that Darry threw at Soda and he just couldn't help himself. The laughter started deep inside his belly, bubbling up his throat and exploding out of his mouth. REAL laughter, the hysterical, non-stopping kind that he hadn't laughed in a long time. Ponyboy felt himself tumble off his chair, clutching his gut, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. Some vague part of him was aware that Sodapop had joined in his laughing and had spilled his drink in the process, and now Darry was screaming at him in exaggerated frustration, his yells interrupted with staccato bursts of laughter, until he too collapsed in a heap. They lay there, the three of them, giggling for a long while, on the dirty carpet of their living room.  
  
~  
  
Two-Bit was whistling when he entered the hospital. Somehow (he wasn't sure how it happened, but he wasn't complaining) he'd gotten out of jail scott- frickin-free. Naturally, he was in a very good mood as he stepped up to the desk, and winked at the nurse working behind.  
  
"Hello nurse." He grinned. "You wouldn't happen to have a Dallas Winston here would you?"  
  
The nurse smiled blandly. "Name?"  
  
"Two-Bit Matthews."  
  
"Okay! Room…323. Go right in!" Again, the stupid perky smile made an appearance.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The nurse watched through narrowed eyes, as the lanky greaser ambled off. She waited until he was out of earshot to pick up the white plastic telephone.  
  
"Hello. Yes. Yes, he's here. Just went in. Right." She hung up quickly. Then she adjusted her hat, pasted on her fake smile, and went back, hard at work, filing her nails.  
  
~  
  
Two-Bit creaked open the door to room 323 and peered in. 'Dally', pale as snow and skinny as an anorexic model, was slumped back in the hospital bed, staring in devastation at the newspaper in front of him. He looked like an animated corpse. Shaking off the chills, Two-Bit pushed into the room.  
  
"Hiya Dallas!" he chirped.  
  
The younger boy stared back at him, liquid eyes urgent and filled with despair. With one skeletal hand, he beckoned for Two-Bit to come close. When he spoke it was in a whisper:  
  
"I'm a Capricorn."  
  
Two-Bit nodded solemnly, pretending he knew what the hell the guy was talking about.  
  
Dallas shook his head looking mournful. "I wasn't always. I was a Virgo…" His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hey, who the hell are you?" he demanded.  
  
Two-Bit stared at him, aghast. "Your friend? Two-Bit?"  
  
"Oh yeah, the lunatic that revived me," Dallas yawned and sank back against the pillows, tossing the paper away. "I owe you one," he said flatly, sounding as if he didn't really mean it at all.  
  
"No problem," Two-Bit said, grinning. That was more like it.  
  
"So," blue eyes fixed on him, "how many were there?"  
  
Two-Bit blinked. "What?"  
  
"How many," he paused and gave Two-Bit a pointed stare, "were there?" When this got no response, he continued looking slightly pissed. "People? Like me? Dead, than alive?"  
  
"Oh!" Two-Bit said, nodding, understanding at last. "I have no idea."  
  
"Thanks. There's one minute of my life I'll never have back," Dallas muttered.  
  
"Hey, is that any way to treat your saviour?" Two-Bit asked indignantly.  
  
"No, my lord," the boy replied sulkily.  
  
"That's better." Two-Bit glanced around the room, searching for something to talk about. "So, you're alive huh?"  
  
"Thanks to you, Mr. Matthews." Two-Bit looked up, startled, hearing the cultured, accented voice that called him 'Mr'. Dallas was looking past him, his eyes wide with surprise. Two-Bit whipped around, and found himself staring at an elderly man in a blue business suit and white moustache (very carefully trimmed).  
  
"Who the-"  
  
The man gave them a gracious smile. "I am Mr. Vanviera," he declared dramatically.  
  
Two-Bit raised his eyebrows, and Dallas gave him a blank look.  
  
The man sighed. "I am the sponsor of your project." He nodded disdainfully at Dallas.  
  
Again, nothing.  
  
"Without me, you wouldn't be alive!" he shouted.  
  
"Without Two-Bit I wouldn't be alive."  
  
"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but I was the one who brought the project all about!" The man was looking very heated. He reached inside his blue jacket and drew out a white lacy handkerchief (at this point Two-Bit was trying very hard not to snort) and mopped his face, which had become quite red.  
  
"Listen, Mr. V," the tow-headed teen said once the man's handkerchief was out of sight again, "you wouldn't know how many people have been brought back would you?"  
  
The man stiffened, looking slightly perturbed. "Why, there have been none," he said irritably.  
  
"My nurse said there were." The boy frowned, his eyes accusing.  
  
"She was mistaken," Mr. Vanviera said through gritted teeth. "I'll have her dismissed."  
  
"I didn't mean-"  
  
"DISMISSED, I tell you!" the man roared. Both boys were silent, their eyes fixed on the raging man in front of them.  
  
"Someone needs anger management classes," Two-Bit muttered, and Dallas snickered.  
  
"Alright," Mr. Vanviera continued when he'd calmed down, "alright, the reason I am here, in your midst," here he spread his arms wide, encompassing the two in his grand gesture, "is because my colleagues and myself have taken a great interest in both of you. But especially in you, Mr. Matthews." He smiled, somewhat evilly. "We would like to speak with you in private."  
  
"Okay." The boy hopped up, and was at the man's side in an instant, a curious grin on his face. "Let's go!"  
  
"Alright," said Mr. Vanviera, somewhat shaken by his enthusiasm. 'Stupid, naïve boy,' he though disgustedly. "Let's be off then."  
  
"See ya later Dally," the young Matthews yelped, then eagerly followed the suit out the door.  
  
~  
  
Eleanor sighed softly, watching the boy leave. She hadn't known him by name maybe, but she'd remember that dumb ass ear-to-ear grin for the rest of her life. Carefully reaching over the bedside, she felt around for her discarded paper. Her hand touched a dusty round object; pulling it into the light, she saw that it was a baseball.  
  
"Strange," she murmured before diving back beneath the bed. She retrieved her newspaper, and, ignoring the horoscopes, peered down at the crossword puzzle. She got to number five horizontal "____ Williams" four letters, before she got fed up, and turned to polishing the ball. 


	6. Chapter 6

We're Back Chapter 6  
  
1 A/N: I don't know what the news was like back then, so I made it up.  
  
P.S. This is a really stupid chapter. But I'm sick, with a cold and writer's block.  
  
P.P.S. The word with the little *star* thing on it, is a word that probably shouldn't be used there, but I thought it was pretty so I did it anyway. Enjoy!  
  
~  
  
The glassy black automobile sped across town, it's ebony surface sparkling like polished glass. Uncommonly clean tires spun madly, sending the vehicle forward, and fast. Real silver trim and tinted windows added to the classy appearance of the sleek limousine.  
  
Seated on the plush leather insides of the car, his muddy sneakers planted firmly on the carpeted floor, Two-Bit was trying very hard not to breathe. It wasn't just because he'd never rode in a limo before (hell, he'd never seen one live). It wasn't because he'd never been in a car where the driver had opened the door for him, and called him "monsieur". It wasn't even because of the two men seated on either side of him, that looked as if they had popped right out of an FBI comic, with their short dark hair, dark suits and dark glasses (so he couldn't tell that they were looking at him). No. It was because, new as this car obviously was, it had a distinct smell to it, which Two-Bit found to be horrifyingly unpleasant. He made a mental note to tell Sodapop (the kid would really get a kick outta it): rich cars stank to high heaven. Two-Bit scuffed one dirty shoe over the carpet and wished he was breathing in the rank odour of his own car (pot and sweaty socks) rather than this fake "piney fresh" crap. Truth be told, the greaser was beginning to get a little nervous. It was completely dark in the car (fault of the damnable tinted windows) save for a few dots of purple light lining the doors. And the only company he had was the silent suits beside him; Mr. Vanviera had called shotgun. The whole scene had Two-Bit totally weirded out. One of the men of stone beside him suddenly moved. Two-Bit watched in abject* fascination as he slowly moved his arm, raising his fist toward his mouth. The man coughed, once, and then the hand was moved back at a snail's pace to its former position. Utterly uninteresting. Still, it was the first movement either of them had made, and Two-Bit couldn't help watch. Then, like and instant replay, the man on the other side did the exact same thing, moving (if possible) even slower. Two-Bit stared. That just wasn't right.  
  
He got as far as "Wait a-!" before they pounced on him. A piece of cloth was held in front of his face and a smell infinitely worse than the car's filled his nostrils. Two-Bit felt himself swoon, something he'd never done before in his life, and then, suddenly, he was unconscious.  
  
~  
  
It was nearly night. Ponyboy yawned, throwing his dishrag over the sink top and setting the last clean plate back in the cupboard. He glanced out the sparkling clean window as the last streaks of sunset faded into twilight. Ponyboy dropped into a chair, stifling another jaw-cracking yawn. He was too exhausted to do more than watch wearily as the stars sparkled into view. Darry could be a slave driver when he wanted to be. Pony cast one look across the kitchen, reassuring himself that there were no remaining renegade spots of grease. He heaved himself off the chair and managed to stumble into the living room where Soda was folding laundry, his eyes glued to the television. Sodapop gave Ponyboy a sympathetic grin as the younger boy dropped like a stone onto the floor beside him.  
  
"What the hell are you watching the news for?" Ponyboy asked, peering at the screen.  
  
Soda shrugged. "Nothing else on."  
  
Ponyboy watched the annoying newscaster speak for several seconds before leaning over and snapping off the TV. He grabbed a couple of socks from the clothes pile and started folding.  
  
Soda gave his brother a look. "Come on man. TV makes life bearable." He leaned over and turned it back on.  
  
"In latest news-"  
  
Click. "I hate the news," Ponyboy growled.  
  
"I like it," Soda shot back, clicking on the box.  
  
"Garfield Science-"  
  
Click. "It's stupid."  
  
Click. "YOU'RE stupid!"  
  
"…miracles happening-"  
  
Click, and then click again, a millisecond later.  
  
"…Dallas Winston-"  
  
"Wait!" Soda screeched, lunging for Ponyboy's outstretched hand. The brothers wrestled for a minute before Sodapop won by headlocking his brother in an iron, unshakeable, pry-my-cold-dead-fingers-off-your-body grip. Poor hapless Ponyboy had no choice but to listen to the mindless drone of the TV man.  
  
"We have here an interview with our source of information, young Betty Little, former nurse."  
  
The camera switched suddenly to the face of a pretty young girl with curled brown hair and a nurse hat perched jauntily on her head. She gave the camera a grin and waved.  
  
"Now, Miss Little," said the reporter, shoving his face in front of the screen. "What can you tell us about this so-called miracle boy?"  
  
"He's alive for sure – last I saw of him, he wanted another pillow. Then I come back and I'm fired! For no good reason, I can tell you that. I was a damn good nurse!"  
  
"Imagine that," said the reporter, not looking interested in the least. "But was he really brought back to life?"  
  
"Yeah, when I first saw him he was dead as a doorknob but he's breathing now and-"  
  
"Thank you Miss Little!"  
  
The scene faded and the first newscaster came into view. He gave the camera a toothy smile and said: "Isn't that an interesting story, folks? This is certainly new! The blond youth is bound to go down in history! In other news-"  
  
Click. Pony had somehow escaped. (Most likely because Soda had been completely immersed in the news story.)  
  
"Ponyboy!"  
  
"We heard the news you wanted. It's just boring now."  
  
Soda shook his head but didn't argue. "I can't believe they put him on TV!"  
  
Pony cracked a grin. "Bet he'll be pissed."  
  
  
  
~  
  
And pissed 'he' was indeed.  
  
Lying in bed, at 6:30 p.m., trying to sleep (there was little else to do), Eleanor had heard the first hint of noise. Then, slowly, it grew, louder and louder, the sound of a thousand annoyingly perky voices, all rushing towards her. At first she thought that Soda and Steve and Two-Bit had somehow managed to get back in. But soon it was clear that even they couldn't have made such a formidable ruckus. The noise swelled to ear- shattering levels, the sound of stampeding feet now audible. And then, suddenly, some blond, lipsticky lady poked her head in.  
  
"He's in here!" she shrieked, and Eleanor was instantly swarmed.  
  
People, yelling and hissing and pulling each other's hair, trying to see her. Microphones were poked into her, cameras swung at her head, and everywhere she looked, squawking nosy reporters. Voices shrieked and screamed, and dozens of questions were thrown at her from every direction.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Where are your parents?"  
  
"How long were you dead?"  
  
"Do you REMEMBER anything?"  
  
"What was your first thought when you woke up?"  
  
"Did you see God?"  
  
"Did you see God?"  
  
"Did you SEE the Devil?"  
  
Completely bewildered and very much afraid, Eleanor could do nothing more than scream at the top of her lungs:  
  
"GET OUT OF MY ROOM YOU FREAKISH DEGENERATE SICKOS!"  
  
Which did nothing. Except add to the din the noise of a thousand pencils scratching down her words on padded paper.  
  
Then suddenly, (and a little late) her saviour arrived. Dressed in a white cotton skirt and white cotton shirt with a little red cross on it and a white hat (also with a little red cross on it) and white stockings and horrible white shoes, her scarlet painted mouth a tight grim line, Head Nurse Geraldine arrived on the scene.  
  
She opened her mouth and in a voice as loud as a foghorn shouted: "VISITING HOURS ARE OVER!" And held up a shotgun.  
  
It was very effective.  
  
The room emptied almost as quickly as it had filled. The only person who dared defy the cross nurse was a bimbo-ish woman with a large microphone and too much hair. But one narrowed –eyed look from Nurse Geraldine and Miss Bimbo too, left in a hurry.  
  
The nurse closed the door quickly, bolted it, and leaned her shotgun against the wood. Then she turned and gave Eleanor a steely look.  
  
Eleanor, though grateful, was terrified (and rightly so).  
  
But the nurse's grim expression softened slightly (very slightly) and she gave the girl what was obviously meant to be a smile.  
  
"Can I get you anything?" she asked abruptly.  
  
"No – no thank you ma'am," Eleanor corrected herself. She'd mind her P's and Q's with the lady around.  
  
The nurse gave her a quick nod, and, shouldering her firearm, she dashed out into the sea of angry, mobbing reporters.  
  
"QUIET!" she yelled once and then the door shut behind her.  
  
Eleanor hadn't realised how tense she'd been until now. She relaxed slowly, never moving her eyes from the door. The people had gone a lot quieter. Her eyelids began to droop. Then she heard a noise, a kind of scuttling under her bed. Her eyes snapped open once more, and she picked up her baseball, ready to chuck it at any cockroach that appeared. But what was under her bed was something much more annoying and harder to get rid of than any cockroach.  
  
The reporter stood quickly, brushing the dust bunnies off his business suit. He glanced back to the door, and then bolted it quickly. Then he gave Eleanor a terrifying smile.  
  
"Now then, Mr. Winston, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you-"  
  
"As do I!" called out an angry voice. A red-faced reporter heaved himself through the window. "You aren't the only resourceful one here!" he said triumphantly to the other.  
  
"Here boy, if these two people get to ask you stuff, you can't not talk to me." A heavy, white-haired man slid quickly from his hiding place in Eleanor's most hated room: the bathroom. She wished he'd drowned in the toilet.  
  
From outside, the noise had started again. Eleanor could hear Nurse Geraldine's rage, her fists beating against the locked door, her furious voice yelling words that made Eleanor relieved that the children's ward was on the other side of the hospital.  
  
A few more reporters appeared; one had managed to squish herself into the pillow cupboard, and another particularly skinny lady had hidden herself behind a couple extra IVs. One would have been sufficient enough to drive Eleanor up the wall.  
  
As the squawking and demanding began anew, Eleanor sighed in defeat, unable to even lift herself off the bed. She answered the questions in monosyllables, hoping that each new inquiry would be the last. Through the open window, the moon gleamed, bright and full, mocking her plight. Eleanor growled a curse, swearing her eternal hatred of the 6 o'clock news. She could tell it was going to be a long night. 


	7. Chapter 7

1 We're Back Chapter 7  
  
A/N: I had to hold the humour a little for this. Lemme know if it sucks? Thanks for reading!  
  
P.S. I have nothing against guys, or reporters. Really I don't! Sorry to anyone who gets offended.  
  
~  
  
When Two-Bit woke he was lying on a plush leather couch. Wherever he was, it was warm, and he didn't feel much like getting himself up. But he wasn't exactly in a position to lie back and relax. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the dimly lit room for his abductors.  
  
"Hello?" he called apprehensively. For a moment nothing happened, then he heard the sound of quick, heavy footsteps pounding on the carpeted floor, making the leaves on the nearby fake plant shake madly. Somewhere, a door creaked and then suddenly, the room was flooded with light. Squinting against the glare, Two-Bit shoved off the couch. A slim man with thick glasses and short salt-and-pepper coloured hair stood blinking and wringing his hands in his long white lab coat.  
  
Two-Bit felt a sudden urge to rush the man and grab him by the collar of his coat. He was pissed. Nobody drugs a greaser and gets away with it. He was about to jump the guy when a sudden, unbidden though occurred to him: the man could tell him what this was all about. Promising himself that he'd get even later, Two-Bit decided to give the man a chance.  
  
"You're awake!" The man smiled, a little nervously. "Well, ah, would you like something to drink?"  
  
Two-Bit realised that he was parched. "Yeah sure," he said, and the man crossed the room quickly, to where a water-filled plastic jug stood on a table. Two-Bit followed, noticing with surprise that the man was several inches taller than he was. The man was so rabbity and scared looking that he appeared to be very short.  
  
"Here," said the man, handing him a cup. Two-Bit accepted, and quickly gulped down the water. It occurred to him halfway through that the water could have been drugged too, and he gave himself a swift mental kick for taking anything from these people.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Two-Bit demanded once he'd finished his drink.  
  
The rabbit man gave him a twitchy smile. "Follow me," he said, and hurried back to the door through which he had come. Two-Bit found himself in a long, marble hallway, its whitewashed walls strongly resembling those of the hospitals. There were several white-painted closed doors on both sides of the hallway, but the man ignored them, leading Two-Bt quickly to the end of the hall. Here, the pattern of doors was broken. The wood of these pair of ornate doors was a dark chestnut colour, and the trim was full of intricate little carvings. A brass plaque embedded in the wood read clearly: MEETING ROOM.  
  
The man hovered around the door for a minute; obviously he didn't really want to go in. Two-Bit decided to give him a hand. He reached forward and grasped the shiny brass doorknob, with every intention of turning it. The man reacted instantly, reaching forward and slapping Two-Bit's hand.  
  
"Hey!" Two-Bit cried indignantly.  
  
"Don't touch." The man turned to his side where a little white box was attached to the wall. Two-Bit watched, fascinated, as the man pressed one of the buttons on the box and began speaking rapidly into a small hole.  
  
It was all very strange and alien. Somewhat like as if Two-Bit had been thrown into the future.  
  
'What the hell is going on?' he thought watching the man speak.  
  
But the box quickly left his mind, because the doors opened at that moment. A tall, strong looking man with thick blond hair clad also in a white lab coat peered through the crack in the door at them.  
  
"Is this him?" he asked in a whisper, nodding at Two-Bit. The rabbit man nodded, and they were quickly admitted.  
  
The room was unlike any the greaser had ever seen. It was huge, for starters, and the windows were tall, looking out at a magnificent view the sunset over a slow moving river. Two-Bit craned his neck, trying to spot any other signs of humans in the wilderness outside the building.  
  
"Ahem. Mr. Matthews?" someone said. Two-Bit turned his gaze to the shiny wood table, and suited men sitting in front of him.  
  
"Uh, yeah, that's me," he said, feeling out of place.  
  
"Have a seat," an old man with a familiar white moustache gestured at an empty chair. Two-Bit stared.  
  
"Mr. V! Hey, what the hell is going on here?" Two-Bit demanded, outraged. So that Mr. Vanviera was behind all this! [Had you not guessed.]  
  
"Mr. Matthews, there's no need to make a scene-"  
  
"It's Two-Bit," the greaser interrupted, "and yeah, there is a need to make a scene. What the hell am I doing here?"  
  
"We wanted to offer you a short-term job, Mr. Matthews," said another man, with hair greased almost as much as Steve's. He smiled and stroked his chin. "But we wanted to make sure you wouldn't refuse."  
  
Large, meaty hands clamped down on both the greaser's shoulders. Two-Bit looked up and found himself staring at the tallest, most muscular man he'd ever seen, wearing a police uniform. Sharp brown eyes glared down at him, and Two-Bit swallowed nervously, wishing desperately that Darry were here to protect him.  
  
"What's my job?" Two-Bit asked meekly.  
  
Mr. Vanviera stood instantly, beaming. "Good boy, I knew you'd co-operate."  
  
'Then why'd you drug me,' Two-Bit thought.  
  
"Mr. Matthews-"  
  
"Two-Bit," he said through gritted teeth.  
  
"You've met Dr. Wittles," Mr. V motioned at the rabbit man. "And this is Dr. Burgman." The blonde-haired man nodded at Two-Bit, but his gaze was on Mr. Vanviera. "They were the scientists who created the equipment that brought your friend to life."  
  
Two-Bit opened his mouth. "Oh. Hi." There was nothing much to say to that.  
  
"Your job is simple." Mr. V leaned forward, fixing the greaser with a piercing stare. "Just do whatever you did that day you revived, uh, Dallas Winston." The room seemed to shudder at his name. Two-Bit caught one man gagging.  
  
Then the full meaning of what the man said hit him. "WHAAAAATTT?!" he yelped. "I can't do that! I ain't no doc…" The muscled man gripped his shoulders tight. "Uh…look, there's gotta be a mistake," Two-Bit pleaded. He couldn't bring people back to life. He wouldn't! Unless…  
  
"There's been no mistake," Mr. Vanviera informed him. "We'll pay you for it," he added. "This project needs a certain person to do what you did. If you don't take this job, nothing will work, the project will go down, the hospital will collapse along with the economy…"  
  
Two-Bit stopped listening. He'd already made up his mind what to do.  
  
"Okay, I'll do it…" he paused. "On one condition."  
  
The men looked up, sceptical looks on their faces. "What would that condition be," one of them asked wearily. They'd been prepared for this, but they'd also hoped that the greaser wouldn't ask for too much. One by one they reached for their chequebooks.  
  
"Not money," Two-Bit said quickly. "I want to bring back this one person first. He was a friend," Two-Bit paused. The men were giving him strange looks, but they were noticeably relieved that he didn't want more money.  
  
"Well, what's the person's name?" Dr. Burgman asked, flipping open a large folder. "I'll see if we have him."  
  
Two-Bit grinned, all thoughts of his mugging and the muscled policeman gone from his mind. "His name is Johnny – John Cade."  
  
~  
  
"What was the first thing you thought when you first woke up?"  
  
Eleanor was running. She was terrified and running as fast as her legs could carry her, which didn't seem to be fast enough at all. Millions of reporters on motorbikes were chasing her, shouting questions to the wind.  
  
"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"  
  
Electricity flashed, and then Eleanor was surrounded, the yells of the inquiring reporters swirling around her.  
  
"This is hell," she said wildly, "for sure. I really died, and now I'm in hell."  
  
"Wrong," said a bored voice. "You're not in hell. I've been there, and it's not this nice." A pair of familiar jean-blue eyes popped up beside her. They turned themselves to face the many squabbling people. "I've seen worse," the male voice scoffed, and a mouth appeared to go along with it. Then hair, long, and thick and blond, tumbling down over a pale face that had suddenly come into being. The scene around them faded, and Eleanor found herself in a misty place, full of white smoke. She looked around, interested. Eleanor had never had a stereotypical dream before. Out of the smoke, came the eyes, and the hair, and the face, and (unfortunately) the mouth, all attached to, what she saw now, was a very, VERY familiar boy.  
  
"Hey!" she squeaked indignantly. "You're me!"  
  
"No, you've got it backwards," said the boy, looking irritated. "You're ME. Like, in MY body."  
  
"Whatever," Eleanor replied, with the quick acceptance that comes with most dreams. "Have you really been to hell?"  
  
"Yeah, an' the devil greeted me personally, shook my hand and told me I was doing a fine job," the boy said sarcastically.  
  
"Stop it," Eleanor ordered. "Or I'll make your body do something stupid."  
  
The boy was silent. But only for about two seconds. "You know it's not fair," he complained. "You get to live it my body-"  
  
"Get to? You mean, HAVE to."  
  
"Shut up, stupid, I'm talking." Obviously the boy didn't care for manners. "Why don't I get to live in yours?"  
  
"Ask the devil, since you know him so well."  
  
"I can't believe you're my replacement." The boy gave her a disgusted look. "You probably won't do any drugs, or drink at all. You'll ruin my rep. And my body won't ever get laid with you in there."  
  
"I can't imagine any self-respecting girl having sex with your body when YOU'RE in there," Eleanor retorted. "And drugs, smoking and drinking are bad for your health. You did them, and look where you ended up."  
  
The two teenagers glared at one another for awhile.  
  
"At least you're mean," he said finally. This did not help things.  
  
"Look, if you have anything important to say, say it now," Eleanor growled. "Otherwise I'll wake up, and you'll be left in the dark."  
  
"Well, you could at least tell me how the guys are. And is Johnny alive?" For a minute the boy dropped the sneer, and looked almost hopeful.  
  
Eleanor crossed her dream arms, noticing happily that they were her own, and not the stupid boy's. "I'm not telling you anything unless you learn some manners and introduce yourself properly."  
  
"FINE," he said through gritted teeth. The boy drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm Dallas Winston-"  
  
"I know," Eleanor interrupted.  
  
"Ok, now who's being rude?"  
  
"Sorry," Eleanor said sheepishly.  
  
"I'm Dallas Winston," the boy started again. "And, uh, who are you?"  
  
'Well at least he's trying,' Eleanor thought. "I'm Eleanor Prop. Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Pleased-to-meet-you." The boy repeated without emotion. "Now will you tell me?"  
  
Eleanor sighed. "Alright FINE. They guys seem okay. I met Two-Bit and Soda and Steve and Tim. I don't know who Johnny is."  
  
Dallas kicked at nothing, then sat down in the mist. He stared at his hands looking so miserable that Eleanor suddenly felt sorry for him.  
  
"They really missed you," she added. "They won't leave me alone."  
  
"Good," he grunted.  
  
"Sodapop is really good-looking," she remarked and Dallas' head snapped up, his eyes wide.  
  
"Don't you DARE!" he yelped. "No way, you cannot EVER make a move on any of them while you're me, if you do I'll…" he trailed off.  
  
"You'll do what? Throw smoke-balls at me?" Eleanor smirked at him. "Sorry, pal. I can do whatever I want. So you'd better be nice to me." She grinned back at Dally.  
  
And, oh, if looks could kill…  
  
"Look, don't…" Dallas sighed, defeated at last. "PLEASE don't make a move on them, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Eleanor agreed. "I've sworn off boys anyway. You guys are all stupid, immature animals obsessed with your crotches." Dally's mouth dropped open and his eyes looked furious. But Eleanor was already beginning to feel light-headed. "Well, I'll see you later," she said cheerfully. "I've got to wake up now."  
  
"Wait!" Dallas shouted, lunging for her, but Eleanor was already floating away from dreamland, and back into the world.  
  
"Sodapop here I come!" she yelled, for Dally's benefit. His agonised swearing was music to her ears. She woke smiling, and noticed, with much joy, that there was not a reporter (nor a motorbike) in sight. 


	8. Chapter 8

1 We're Back Chapter 8  
  
A/N: I've updated! I can't remember the last time I did this. I miss you guys! Anyway, there has been A LOT of new stories, and they have been quite good. Just thought you should know so if you're a writer, Congratulations! Great work! And if you're a reader, then go check out some of the other stories, they're great! Anyway, here's another chapter, with unrealistic science, a silly humour. No sexual innuendoes in this one though, and I'll try to tone them down in further chapters They're just so fun! This is going to be a freakish story. Just warning you guys. (I guess it already is, oh well.)  
  
P.S. I think I change tenses somewhere and I've done it badly. Sorry about that.  
  
~  
  
Lying on his back on the leather couch, cigarette in hand, Two-Bit studied the tiled ceiling, too stunned to speak or move. He watched the smoke twist up above his head, and finally thought to take a drag off his weed.  
  
"Goddamn," he breathed afterward, a cloud of smoke blossoming from his mouth. "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen. You ever seen anything so cool?"  
  
He raised himself up on his elbow and looked over to where Dr. Burgman sat, shaking his head and rubbing a hand through his blond hair.  
  
"No, I haven't," the doctor said enthusiastically. "I hadn't seen anyone brought to life before today."  
  
"Only me and Darry had," Two-Bit reminded him. "Seeing as Dally was the only other one."  
  
"Yes, that's right," Dr. Wittles agreed quickly, sending Burgman a warning look. "He was the ONLY other one."  
  
"And we weren't expecting it, and the power cut at one point, so we didn't really see it clear either," Two-Bit continued, oblivious to looks passed between the men.  
  
"Well you did a good job," Dr. Wittles said monotonously, giving Burgman one last glare. Larry Wittles had become less and less rabbity throughout the day, and now seemed almost normal.  
  
"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Two-Bit said excitedly. "Guess I'm a scientist now huh? Just like you guys!"  
  
Again, the doctors exchanged looks.  
  
Two-Bit grinned at them both. He felt giddy, like he usually felt after a beer or two and a hit of gin in coke. "Wait 'till I tell Darry I'm a scientist."  
  
"Ah, maybe you shouldn't," Dr. Wittles said, just as Dr. Burgman yelped "That's not a good idea."  
  
Two-Bit smile faded. "Why not?" he asked, pausing in his jubilance.  
  
"Uh, because, it – he – he wouldn't understand."  
  
Two-Bit gave Burgman a sceptical look. "Darry knows everything."  
  
"It's a very complex project we are working on," Dr. Wittles said smoothly. "It would be best not to complicate things by sharing our knowledge with the public, and that includes your friend."  
  
"Oh," Two-Bit said uncertainly. Then a thought occurred to him. "Does that mean I can't tell them about Johnny?"  
  
The two men smiled. "Go ahead," Dr. Burgman said.  
  
"But be careful what you say," Dr. Wittles warned.  
  
Two-Bit grinned. He couldn't wait to tell the guys! Johnny's revival was forever embedded in his memory, as one of the best experiences of his life. Two-Bit rested back against the couch, lit another cigarette and closed his eyes, going over the events of that day for the twentieth time.  
  
~  
  
When he'd first seen Johnny so pale and unmoving he'd almost broken down and cried. Two-Bit had readied himself to face the boy, remembering with distaste the way Dally had been lying so still only a few days back. But seeing Johnny dead was ten thousand times worse than seeing the tow-headed criminal. At least death had been Dallas's choice, and he wasn't exactly a model citizen. But Johnny – he'd been so kind, pure, so shy and honest. Johnny was a good boy, better than someone in his position would have been expected to turn out. He hadn't wanted to die, Two-Bit knew that much, and he hadn't done anything in his short life to deserve it.  
  
He'd choked back his emotions, partly because he wanted to get right into the job, and partly because the two doctors were right beside him, and in spite of everything, Two-Bit Matthews was a greaser through and through. He'd concentrated instead on watching them set up the equipment. Lots of wires, lots of switches, lots of fancy lights that meant nothing to him, all attached to a bunch of green boards with nails in them. Somehow, this thing was supposed to bring Johnny back. The doctors had set up the project, connecting several wires and clips to Johnny's body. Finally, they had finished, and never once asked for Two-Bit's help.  
  
"What's my job?" he had asked, completely confused.  
  
Dr. Burgman pushed back his long hair. He almost looked like a greaser if he'd been younger with his thick yellow slicked hair. He pointed to a tiny metal device standing in the corner. Two-Bit remembered this device.  
  
"You flick the switch. On and off."  
  
Two-Bit stared. "Couldn't y'all just do that yourselves?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Dr. Wittles gave him a wry smile. "You would think so," he muttered.  
  
Burgman was more helpful. "No one knows how long precisely each person needs this thing to be on for it to actually work," he explained. "It seems to work better as an intuition thing, instead of through scientific research."  
  
Dr. Wittles grunted in agreement, but gave Burgman a dirty look. "Don't tell the kid too much," he'd hissed, out of earshot of the greaser.  
  
Two-Bit, who had been ignoring Burgman anyway (he didn't know what 'intuition' meant and didn't much care), ambled over to the metal box. He watched Johnny, shuddering slightly. Truth be told he was glad the kid had been taken in from the hospital; he didn't know if he could stand the thought of Johnny's body locked underground forever, his remains being gobbled up by worms. Pushing the disturbing thoughts from his mind, he studied the switch. The greaser couldn't help comparing this time to when he'd accidentally flipped Dally's switch. That time, it had been so easy. Now he was terrified of that switch. What if something went wrong? What if he wasn't the person that they needed for this?  
  
Two-Bit almost turned around and told the doctors they could shove the switch flipping process up their butts. But, in a flash of rare intelligent thought, he remembered the huge Darry-ish guard waiting to pulverise him, should he do something wrong.  
  
"What harm could it do?" he murmured to himself, reaching for the switch. "Johnny's already dead. He won't feel it."  
  
Gathering up his courage, Two-Bit pressed his finger to the cool metal. Slowly, slowly, he pressed down. The switch was not moving. He pressed harder. The switch did not switch. Harder and even harder he pressed. The switch was an immovable rock, a mountain of metal, a solid, firm, inflexible, adamantine, fortress of impenetrable steel, unrelenting to his ever-straining pointer finger. In a fit of pissed-off-ness, Two-Bit gripped the switch with both hands (which was hard to do, as the switch was very, very small) and shoved downward with all his might.  
  
Dr. Wittles cleared his throat. "Uh, push it UP, Mr. Matthews."  
  
This time, he did not hesitate, and no revelation came to stop him.  
  
"Why don't you just shove this switchiness up your-"  
  
With a mighty PUZZZZZAAAAP! the switch, was switched. Electricity, again flowed, the protons staying put (because PROTONS DON'T MOVE!) and the electrons moving fast and furious through the wires in giant coulombs of charge, generating a current of over 100 amps! [A/N: This statement of scientific genius brought to you by grade 9 science.] Johnny's body danced wildly and absurdly on the tabletop, much like Lestat with the dead mother in "Interview with a Vampire". With a manly shriek, Two-Bit dove for the floor. Then, inexplicably and frighteningly, Darry's voice rang through his skull in a major déjà vu: "TURN IT OFF!"  
  
And Two-Bit did.  
  
For a split second nothing happened. Then Johnny's eyes opened. All three men held their breaths. Johnny Cade gazed at the ceiling for several seconds before (get this) blinking. Then he closed his eyes. A few more seconds and he was fast asleep, having not said a word. The men breathed again. And that was precisely when Two-Bit passed out and had to be carried to the leather couch by Dr. Wittles, Burgman waving smelling salts beneath his greaser nostrils.  
  
~  
  
The day had been slow. Eleanor had spent the morning and part of the afternoon watching herself on the news. She couldn't believe how primitive the T.V. was. Still, it was a television, and she enjoyed hearing her words broadcasted, even if they were coming out of a male body. Studying Dallas on T.V. Eleanor was disgusted to see that he looked even sicklier than she remembered. He was skinny as hell, and his hair hung limply around his face and down to his shoulders. He needed a bath, a haircut, a good meal (or twenty) and a smack in the face to get rid of that smirk as far as Eleanor was concerned. Then she remembered that she had been the one smirking. For one horrific second she thought she might actually be becoming more like Dallas Winston.  
  
"No," she said out loud, and the thought deflated like a balloon. She would never be anything like that rude, stupid hoodlum. 'He was probably racist too,' she thought angrily. She'd been tormented daily back home, just for being Spanish, and she'd developed a strong, automatic dislike for anyone who judged people on their racial background. She'd always been suspicious, and so truly had only two good friends: her mother, and her boyfriend. And just the thought of that stupid boy made her blood boil. Because of him she was now "Dallas Winston, idiot and dipstick extroadinaire". And she was not a happy camper.  
  
The door unlatched and in walked a nurse, carrying a large tray filled with hospital food. She smiled and placed the tray down close to Eleanor.  
  
"How are you doing honey?" she asked in a broad accent.  
  
Eleanor smiled back. "Just fine, miss." 'People here in Oklahoma were so nice and simple,' she thought. Not like in her old hometown where people were tricky and conniving, everyday trying to squeeze out just a little bit more money so that they could squander it all on material things. 'Truly,' she thought suddenly, 'If it weren't for my mother, and this dumb ass body,' she pinched herself, pretending that Dallas actually felt it, 'I would rather stay here.' 


	9. Chapter 9

1 We're Back Chapter 9  
  
A/N: I changed Dally's parentage from my other story, and from well, um, anything I guess (same names as my other one though – I like them). I don't know what it was exactly in the book. I'm just trying to figure out why he's so bitter.  
  
P.S. It's a short chapter. And it's weird I think.  
  
~  
  
"Guess what guess what guess what guess-"  
  
"WHAAAT?" Soda yelped, grabbing Two-Bit's shoulders in an effort to calm him down.  
  
Two-Bit grinned dementedly, and, cupping his hands around Soda's ear, he began to whisper.  
  
"Guess what guess what guess what guess what!"  
  
Darry groaned watching to two boys race into the living room. Soda wasn't so good at calming people down. He put away his paper with an exaggerated sigh. "And then there were two," he said sadly.  
  
Two-Bit and Sodapop exchanged looks and burst into excited laughter.  
  
"More than you know!" Two-Bit squealed breathlessly.  
  
Ponyboy grinned at them both, his novel resting on his lap, forgotten. He watched Soda's beaming face, knowing exactly how he felt. He'd felt that way when he'd first seen the "revival" article in the paper a few days ago.  
  
"What," Darry was saying (rather tiredly), "do you mean by 'more than you know?'"  
  
Two-Bit couldn't stand any longer. He'd been desperate to tell someone the whole ride home (they'd drugged him again to get him out of the "revival" hospital, despite his numerous and volumous protests).  
  
"It's Johnny!" he fairly shrieked. "He's alive!"  
  
The colour drained from Darry's face. "You're joking," he said in a whisper.  
  
Two-Bit shook his head. "Nope! Saw him myself. I think he blinked at me," he added proudly.  
  
"Isn't this great?" Soda grinned, white teeth flashing.  
  
Ponyboy said nothing. He just stared open-mouthed, at the three others in his living room, stunned beyond belief. He felt the keen urge to both laugh and burst into wild tears. Ponyboy shook his head, trying to clear it. Cry? Crying was something you did when you were sad. And he wasn't sad, why would he be sad hearing that Johnny was alive? In truth, he wasn't sure exactly how he felt. But he knew he sure as hell wasn't sad.  
  
Darry frowned. "When did you see Johnny, Two-Bit? He couldn't be out already."  
  
"I was, uh, hanging around the hospital. I went to see Dallas," Two-Bit lied.  
  
"How is he, by the way?" Soda flopped down beside Darry on the couch, excited eyes fixed on the joking greaser.  
  
"Johnny? I dunno, I was only there a minute-"  
  
"No, Dally. How is Dally," Darry interrupted.  
  
Two-Bit squirmed. It wasn't that he was a bad liar (he was a great one, as a matter of fact) but he really wanted to tell the truth for a change. This time, what actually happened was a million times cooler than his lie was going to be.  
  
"They wouldn't let me in to see him," Two-Bit said glumly, wishing he could tell Darry he was a scientist. "He was tired or something."  
  
"Sure, from those reporters," Ponyboy said knowingly (albeit quietly – he was still feeling a little faint).  
  
At these words Soda burst into laughter. He and Ponyboy had stayed up all night watching Dally's bedridden form speak in monotone one-syllable answers on the TV. Clearly, the tow-headed boy wasn't meant for the camera.  
  
"Hey leave him alone, he probably wasn't expecting those reporters," Darry said sternly, trying to cover his smile with his paper.  
  
Soda shrugged. "It's his fault for being alive."  
  
~  
  
"I love life," Eleanor murmured as she gazed out into the warm evening. The sun had just set, the birds were still chirping, and a few twinkling stars were beginning to come into view. She sighed softly, enjoying basking in the warm late spring air.  
  
The door to her room opened, and a man with dark hair and glasses, wearing a business suit, entered without knocking. Eleanor pushed away a twinge of irritation. What if she had been changing or something?  
  
"Hello," the man said abruptly. "Are you Dallas Winston?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," she said, feeling weird. Eleanor wasn't much of a liar. "Sort of."  
  
"'Sort of' will do," the man replied with a slight smirk. Eleanor couldn't help feeling that she was being made fun of.  
  
"My name is Mr. Brown. I'm here to do an investigation on your home life," he stated.  
  
Eleanor immediately sat up straighter. She was especially curious about the "home life" of her new host body.  
  
"Social Services has found your current guardians. We'll need you to confirm the information."  
  
"I don't remember anything," Eleanor lied. She'd never known anything; how could she remember it?  
  
The man shrugged. "Well, they check out in our records. Their names are Bill and Marella Winston. We questioned why they weren't involved in your revival, and they said they had no idea that you had even died."  
  
Eleanor's jaw dropped. She quickly closed it, not wanting to appear more oblivious than she had to.  
  
"When we questioned them on this matter, they said that it was largely due to the fact that you were rarely at home." Mr. Brown gave her a stern look over the rim of his glasses. "They said you often ran away."  
  
"But why wouldn't they have known I died?" Eleanor blurted out. "I mean, wouldn't the police call them or something?"  
  
The man suddenly looked weary. "They've had some economical difficulties. They didn't have enough finances to pay their telephone bills. The phone lines were cut. Consequently-"  
  
"They had no phone?!" Eleanor was aghast.  
  
Mr. Brown nodded. "Exactly."  
  
"That's ridiculous!"  
  
"Exactly!" For a minute, the two shared a moment of exasperation. Then Mr. Brown cleared his throat and went all sterny again.  
  
"But, this difficulty with staying at home. Was there any particular reason for your inability to live with your guardians? Why did you persist in running away?"  
  
"Can you blame me? These people have NO PHONE." Eleanor was incensed.  
  
"Mr. Winston, we're going to give you and your guardians a hearing in court. Clearly there must have been some problems with living with your parents-"  
  
'They weren't my parents,' Eleanor thought furiously. This was a mistake. Somewhere, in the back of her borrowed brain lurked some very Dallas Winston-like instincts. They would not be defeated.  
  
"They weren't my parents!" Her voice reverberated through the hospital room, echoing (unwillingly) what she had just thought a few minutes ago. Mr. Brown looked quite rightly put out.  
  
"They weren't? Why didn't you say so?" He opened a briefcase, which Eleanor hadn't noticed, and rifled through a large stack of official-looking papers. Near the beginning of the stack his face changed to a look of understanding.  
  
"Ah," he said in a very thoughtful manner. He gave Eleanor a smile, which was obviously meant to reassure her. It failed.  
  
"What, what now?" she demanded, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bed.  
  
"Don't pout," the man commanded, following the rules of eternal parentage. He had two sons of his own, and he'd be damned if he let this stubborn, thin whip of a juvenile delinquent get away with that type of behaviour.  
  
Eleanor sat up straight, but an angry glare remained on her face. "I don't know why I said that," she said sullenly. "I don't even know who my parents are."  
  
Mr. Brown patted her leg through the hospital blankets looking both sympathetic and very smug. "Well, don't worry about it. Something must have triggered a memory. It turns out you were right. They aren't your biological parents."  
  
Eleanor stared at him, confused, trying to understand what the man was saying.  
  
Mr. Brown pulled the paper he'd been looking at from his stack and handed it over to her. "You probably don't remember the details, according to the dates you were very young, about 5 years old. The records are very clear about this. Mr. Winston, you were adopted." 


	10. Chapter 10

1 We're Back Chapter 10  
  
A/N: This is a direct continuation of the last chapter. It's probably confusing. I'm very sorry.  
  
P.S. I think this one is cheesy. Oh well. My bad.  
  
2 ~  
  
Eleanor remembered.  
  
~  
  
There was a small boy was sitting on a bed, his hair shining in the sunshine that streamed through the window. He was drawing patterns on the plain blue blanket, pretending that there were dinosaurs all over them.  
  
Diana was bending over him, a lady with soft brown hair and a frown on her face. She was tugging on the boy's hair with one hand, and waving a pair of scissors in the other. "Sit still Dallas!" she commanded. "Or your hair is going to turn out all messy."  
  
The boy giggled. "Like yours?" Even at age five he was a pill.  
  
The woman rolled her eyes but laughed with him. "No not like mine you little monster," she scolded. "And you'd better behave. And sit still! You want your new mommy to like your hair don't you?"  
  
The boy nodded his head so fast it almost came right off. In spite of his desire to be good, he kept squirming and wiggling until Diana gave up, tossing away the scissors and giving him an annoyed look.  
  
"Just brush it," the boy ordered. Naturally, he forgot to say please.  
  
Just last week, in fact, when he'd heard the good news, they'd tried to teach him all the manners possible. He'd forgotten them easily. It was his own personal talent to misbehave. Luckily for him, it was also his own personal talent to gaze up at people with his blue eyes, turn on that five- year old charm and say "oops!" and easily get away with whatever he'd done when he was caught.  
  
The woman combed his hair best she could. He never stopped moving once. In his hands he grasped a little backpack, blue of course, because it was his favourite colour, and the favourite colour of every other little boy in the building (and probably the world too). Well, not really. There had once been a boy on his floor whose favourite was the colour red, but he changed it to blue because they all said he liked a girl colour.  
  
Finishing her grooming, Diana stepped back and surveyed the child in front of her. She knew him well, better than any of the other boys, partly because he'd been there since he'd been a baby, and partly because he was loud and not a bit shy, and was always getting sent to her for spankings. Most times she would have to give him a stern look, but today she smiled.  
  
"You know what you're getting today don't you?" she said.  
  
He nodded. "My own room."  
  
The woman laughed. "You sure are."  
  
The boy squirmed. "Can I go now?" he asked eagerly.  
  
The lady nodded. "Got everything?"  
  
"Yes," he replied solemnly. He'd made very sure of that.  
  
"Sweater?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Juice?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You gonna give me a hug?"  
  
They walked out slowly. The halls, decorated with paintings of bright yellow suns and tall green grass and rainbows, were strangely deserted. All the other five-year olds were in the mess room, having snack. But Dallas got to take his snack with him in his little blue backpack, because today he was special. Today he was getting adopted.  
  
Down the stairs and into a large office they went. Dallas had been in the room before, but always because he'd been bad. Now there was a tall lady with red hair piled up on her head, watching him and smiling. A man stood behind her. He was also tall, with dark hair combed very nicely. Dallas was glad he'd let Diana comb his hair. The woman took a few steps toward him and crouched down.  
  
"Are you Dallas?" she asked looking his straight in the eye.  
  
He nodded, but said nothing, grasping tightly to his guardian's hand. He would have hid behind Diana if she'd let him.  
  
Diana laughed. "He's never been shy before," she told his new mommy.  
  
The woman nodded. "Well, honey," she said turning back to him. "You don't have to be afraid of me." She held out her hand.  
  
Diana nudged him. "Go on," she whispered.  
  
The woman's hand reached out to him. Dallas didn't want to take her hand. He'd already practised what he was going to do. He was going to hug her.  
  
The woman was nearly knocked over as the small boy launched himself at her. But she laughed and hugged him back anyway. "We're going to be great friends you know," she whispered.  
  
Dallas let her pick him up. She smelled so nice, like trees and roses. He watched the light shining off her red hair, and waved to Diana over her shoulder. He smiled at the man, who smiled back and patted his head.  
  
"Wonder where he got his name, Jill," the man spoke up. "Dallas? Strange name for a kid ain't it?"  
  
"It's lovely Bill," the woman replied. Dallas recognised the stern tone she was using, but the man kept smiling, so he probably didn't.  
  
"You're in trouble," he whispered to the man and everyone laughed for some reason. He didn't think it was funny. Spankings hurt.  
  
"His parents didn't name him," Diana said. "So we named his after his place of birth, in case someone adopted him early so they could name him whatever they wanted to."  
  
"You can't name me anymore! I have a name!" he yelped, very indignant. "It's Dallas…"  
  
~  
  
Eleanor came to with a jolt. "What the hell?" she said out loud. She looked around quickly for the man, but he had left. In her hands she was tightly clutching a piece of paper. Adoption forms, she realised quickly. She let go of them. Her hands ached from gripping the paper so tightly, and she was surprised to see she was sweating heavily.  
  
'What was that weird thought?' She rubbed her eyes feeling suddenly tired. The thought had been more like a memory. She hadn't had to think at all. It had been like a dream, only the people seemed very real, and everything made sense. Suppressing a yawn Eleanor lay back against the pillows. Whatever the 'thought' had been, it had made her extremely sleepy. She managed to shove the adoption papers under her pillow before completely zonking out.  
  
~  
  
Darry surveyed the living room with an exhausted smile. 12 o'clock and the room was spotless. In fact, the house was spotless. Perfectly straightened for his ordeal with the Social Service lady tomorrow night. Wiping his forehead on his cleaning rag, Darry hefted the soapy bucket of water and trudged to the door. Now all he had to do was make sure Soda and Ponyboy didn't mess the place up, find them all some decent clothes to wear, make sure Two-Bit or Tim didn't happen to amble over around 7 tomorrow, cook a world class meal, and through all of this, he had to work a regular 9-5 day tomorrow. "Lord help us," he moaned dropping down on the minuscule porch. He leaned his head against the bucket, and within seconds he'd fallen into a deep and soapy sleep. 


	11. Chapter 11

We're Back Chapter 11  
  
A/N: I don't know if any of you noticed, but the names of the couple that got Dallas are Bill and Jill. Bill and Jill! BILL AND JILL. What have I done?!  
  
P.S. I know in my past fic, S.E. Hinton's gang was kinda out of character at times (mainly Dally). I'm going to try better this time.  
  
P.S. A lot of this is pointless. I don't know why it's there.  
  
~  
  
When Eleanor opened her eyes the first thing she saw was smoke. Then, with a sudden popping sound, that certain familiar someone appeared.  
  
"Oh, hello stupid," he greeted her.  
  
"Hello Dallas," she said wearily. She studied Dally's face, her mind travelling back to the weird thought she'd had in the hospital. Where did that cute, sweet, little boy go? She wondered. Out loud she said "What do you want this time."  
  
The young hooligan pulled a lit cigarette out from nowhere and took a long drag off of it. He breathed out, letting loose a cloud of the unsavory stench of tobacco in Eleanor's direction. "I think you know the answer to that question, girlie."  
  
Eleanor wrinkled her nose and waved at the air around her. "Well, now I know why this place is filled with smoke," she muttered.  
  
Dallas scowled. "Shut up."  
  
Eleanor had had it up to here with the stupid blond. Striding over to the boy, she yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed it with one hand. "They're bad for you," she snapped. "And my name is ELEANOR. NOT 'girlie'. And for you information, I DON'T know what you want, so you'd better tell me or I'll-"  
  
"Cram it girlie," Dallas replied in a bored tone, pulling another cigarette out of the air.  
  
Eleanor crushed this one just as easily. Then she shoved herself up an inch away from his face. "You call me girlie again," she hissed, her voice low and as dangerous as Dally's had ever been. "And I swear I'll kiss Tim. Right on the lips. IN FRONT OF TWO-BIT." THAT made him jump.  
  
Then she backed off quickly. He didn't smell so good. But Eleanor had made her point. Dally's eyes were slightly wider than they had been a moment before, and he clutched his forgotten cigarette in one hand. Even more astounding, he was quiet.  
  
Eleanor crossed her arms, strangely uncomfortable with the silent Dally. It made her feel like he was plotting. "You still haven't told me what you want," she reminded.  
  
Dally shrugged, and, looking slightly apprehensive said: "Well, I just wanted to know what was going on. You know, with alive people."  
  
"Well, I'm not telling you until you're nice," Eleanor replied sulkily.  
  
"I AM being nice!"  
  
"No, you aren't!"  
  
"Yes-"  
  
"I can see where this is going."  
  
"Yeah, so can I."  
  
"Let's stop it then."  
  
"The first good idea you've had."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Aha!" Dallas cried, suddenly jubilant. "NOW who's being mean?"  
  
Eleanor glared. "That wasn't the point. You're still not being nice."  
  
The blond exhaled noisily. "Fine. How was your day?" he asked, very obviously sarcastic  
  
Eleanor cocked her head to the side. "Well," she said slowly, enjoying watching Dallas squirm with impatience. "It…was a little…weird. And…slow-"  
  
"I get it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Why was it a weird day." He said this very loudly, as if it was very hard for him to say. Which it was.  
  
"I had this strange thought…well it felt like a memory," Eleanor admitted. "It was of you, and you were really young, at an orphanage-"  
  
"I know," he said rudely. "You stole it from me for a while. It's one of my only good memories you know! And being in a place like this," he spread his arms wide, sending puffs of smoke in every direction, "all I got are my thoughts with me."  
  
"So you noticed huh?" Eleanor said sheepishly.  
  
"Damn straight!"  
  
Eleanor chose to ignore his indignant-ness. "You used to be so cute and sweet. What happened?"  
  
Dally stared at her. "You thought I was cute and sweet?" he asked, completely oblivious to the intended insult.  
  
Eleanor sighed. "Yes. But only then."  
  
Dally paused, then his eyes narrowed. "Oh very funny. Bet you think I'm just being a stupid brat now huh? Yeah, well did those people who adopted me look nice? Cause lemme tell you something, it wasn't no picnic having them for parents."  
  
Eleanor was taken aback. "I-"  
  
"Oh shut up. You already figured it out about me. I'm rude and stupid and a brat and I deserved everything I got huh? Well, maybe I did and maybe I didn't but you ain't got no right to judge me, seeing as you don't even know a goddamn thing about my life." Dallas folded his arms across his chest and exhaled slowly.  
  
Eleanor was wide-eyed. "That was long coming wasn't it?"  
  
Dallas shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, all greasers have those speeches. Ask even the stupidest one and he'll tell you all about the injustices of life."  
  
Eleanor cocked her head to the side. "You aren't that stupid. Actually," she admitted, "you don't seem really stupid at all. So far, aside from being rude, you're almost smart."  
  
Dally stared at her as if seeing her for the first time and shook his head slowly. "You…think…smart? …me… and you…Uh oh."  
  
Eleanor frowned. "What do you mean 'uh oh'?"  
  
Dally didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. He just went on shaking his head and saying "uh oh", and pacing back and forth in the clouds of smoke.  
  
A feeling of lightheadedness came over Eleanor, and she decided she didn't give a hang about Dallas.  
  
"Catch you later, I gotta go," she called to him, her voice getting fainter.  
  
He turned and stared at her fading form with a look of absolute panic. "Already? You can't go! You didn't tell me anything! I was nice damnit!"  
  
Eleanor shrugged her disappearing shoulders. "That's life buddy…or, um, death, whatever." She felt herself begin to float.  
  
But Dallas wasn't about to let her go so easily. "No!" he yelped, and launched himself at her, just missing Eleanor as she floated quickly away from dreamland.  
  
~  
  
"Hey, Curtis! You repairing my roof or sleeping on it?"  
  
Darry jerked to life in an instant. 10 in the morning and he still wasn't fully awake. "I'm on it Mr. James," he called down, reaching for the bundle of roofing he'd brought up ten minutes ago.  
  
He was so tired he could barely remember how to do the job he'd been doing for nearly 2 years. He hefted the bundle shakily in one hand. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should be careful, but he was just so tired…  
  
He was brought rudely back to reality with a giant THUD, as the heavy bundle of roofing fell right on his finger.  
  
"GODDAMN!" he shrieked, very un-Darry-like. He jerked his hand away from the roofing, in the process, tipping to bundle off balance. He saw, as if in slow motion, the package balanced precariously on the edge of the roof and then…  
  
"No!" he yelped, making a dive for the precious parcel. He slid past it, watching in dismay as the pack fell downward, before he smacked headfirst into the ladder.  
  
Darry staggered back, nearly blinded, dizzy and seeing stars. He came to just in time to see his only way of getting off the roof fall straight away from its perch against the house.  
  
"SHIT!" Darry yelled in pure frustration, stamping his foot. "How the fucking hell am I supposed to get down now?!"  
  
And then he heard it.  
  
A low creaking noise, that made his heart lurch in fear. Creak. Creak. Darry bent his knees, ready to leap across the rooftop, and then at that moment, with a mighty FLOP he was being dragged in a cascading waterfall of plaster and splintered wood beams.  
  
He came up spitting and gasping, chalk white, covered in plaster dust, and bits of wood, lying under a pile of crap in the center of the James' kitchen.  
  
'So that's how I get down,' he thought dizzily, before the angered shouts of a very red-faced Mr. James cut through his mind.  
  
~  
  
When Soda first saw him, he thought Darry must have fallen into some sort of prank. Maybe Two-Bit dumped a bag of flour on him. Or white paint. This was not so.  
  
"I'm…so sorry, Mr. James," Soda stammered, trying his darndest to keep from bursting out laughing. "We'll pay for the damage, really." Sodapop stared at his shoe, carefully avoiding looking at his plastered brother.  
  
Mr. James scowled. "See that you do," he said curtly. He looked over at Darry, who was miserably trying not to get any dust on his freshly cleaned kitchen floor. Mr. James shook his head. "If you didn't look so funny, I'd have fired you on the spot," he declared, and marched out.  
  
It took one look at Darry and Soda was rolling on the floor laughing his ass off. "My god, Darry," he gasped, "you look – you look – you look-"  
  
"Fantastic!" Two-Bit exclaimed, peeking in through the door.  
  
"Shut up," Darry mumbled, "I do not."  
  
Two-Bit paused, scratching his head. "Well, come to think of it, you don't look so well. You're looking a bit, er, PALE!" And he too joined Sodapop on the floor.  
  
Darry watched them, too tired to even glare. "Listen," he said wearily. "I have to clean up, the Social Services lady is coming today. I gotta make dinner…where's Pony? Oh shit WHERE-"  
  
"I'm here Darry," Ponyboy said quietly, emerging from the bathroom. His hair was shining wet, and his face was freshly scrubbed. "Squeaky clean," he said proudly. "Your turn Soda."  
  
Sodapop shook his head. "Nah, Darry needs it more." A soft TING rang through the air.  
  
"Ooh, chicken's done!" Soda squealed, prancing over to the oven.  
  
Darry stared. "You made chicken?"  
  
Ponyboy shrugged. "You weren't here. We made chicken, and potatoes. And broccoli, don't worry," he added hastily.  
  
"And cake," Soda called out.  
  
"And I brought y'all a tablecloth from my Ma's diner. She, uh, let me borrow one," Two-Bit said, looking away carefully.  
  
Darry almost cried with relief. "I'm…I'm going to take a shower," he managed, and staggered off to the bathroom. He'd really have to learn to trust his brothers more. 


	12. Chapter 12

We're Back Chapter 12  
  
A/N: Millie Davies is the Social Services person.  
  
P.S. Darry needs some action.  
  
~  
  
The candles were lit and the food on the table and the house was clean and they were dressed up and everything was perfect. And into this picture of perfection stepped Millie Davies.  
  
When Darry saw her, his jaw dropped. This was not the same person as the frumpy Social Services lady he'd spoken to, and had been expecting. Through his door and in his kitchen stood a tall, slim, elegantly, but professionally dressed woman, who, Darry was just beginning to realise, was probably a big-time Soc.  
  
Ms. Davies too was surprised. Okay, maybe she'd dressed up a little, and washed and combed her hair a little more carefully, and maybe she was wearing just the teeniest little bit more makeup, but what was laid before her looked more like a date than part of her job.  
  
"Ms. um." Oh God no. He'd forgotten her name!  
  
"Davies," she replied quickly. She wouldn't have remembered his name either, if it hadn't been written down in her work folder. "Millie Davies."  
  
Darry was again taken by surprise. He'd thought it would actually be a struggle to find out her first name.  
  
"Uh, this is my brother, So-" Darry froze in mid-sentence, as it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Social Services wouldn't approve of his brother's creative name. He looked to Ponyboy and found himself in a bigger fix.  
  
"I'm Soda Curtis," Soda said quickly, and Darry's heart leapt to his throat. He looked quickly at Ms. Davies but she didn't seem to shocked.  
  
"And I'm Ponyboy." Here, her eyebrows shot up, but she smiled and nodded politely anyway.  
  
"Well, um." Darry tired mind struggled to find something intelligent to say. Ms. Davies was looking around the kitchen, a scrutinising look on her pretty face.  
  
"You have a lovely kitchen," she said finally. "Very clean and orderly."  
  
"Thank you," Darry replied, relieved.  
  
"Well, why don't we sit down? The food's not going to eat itself." Sodapop flashed his most charming smile at Millie Davies.  
  
They ate slowly, in silence.  
  
Darry barely noticed what he was eating, too distracted by Sodapop's chomping. He'd never much minded Soda's lack of manners, and neither did anyone else, girls included. Soda could be piss drunk and wearing his underwear on his head and he'd still have the girls giggling and flirting. But would his charm really work on a Social worker?  
  
Ponyboy was minding his manners, but he had the most vacant expression possible on his face. He was absent-mindedly making pictures in his plate of food. Really, he was surprised at the appearance of the Social worker. It had never really registered until today that it was a LADY. Now that he'd seen her, he was wondering if maybe Darry's frantic cleaning was spurred on by something besides saving him from a boys' home.  
  
Millie glanced through her eyelashes at the two boys. Sodapop looked old enough to be able to take care of himself, but Ponyboy she had to be concerned about. Raising her eyes she cleared her throat.  
  
"So, how old are you boys?" she asked casually. She knew this, of course, it was in her folder, but she figured she'd start out small and then ask what she really needed to know.  
  
"Seventeen," Soda said through a mouthful of chicken.  
  
"Fourteen. Darry's 20 by the way," Ponyboy added, smirking slightly at Darry.  
  
"Mmhmm, and what grades are you in?" Millie propped her chin up on her hand and leaned forward, trying to look interested. She herself was only 20, not too far out of school that she forgot grades you were in at 17 and 14.  
  
Soda swallowed nervously, looking over at Darry. Darry gave him a desperate look.  
  
"I'm in the 10th grade." Ponyboy saves the day!  
  
Millie raised her eyebrows. "You're a sophomore? At 14?"  
  
Ponyboy nodded. "They put me up a year-"  
  
"Because he's so darned smart," Soda said proudly.  
  
Ponyboy's cheeks reddened and he looked down at his plate.  
  
Millie glanced at Darry. He was sitting up in his seat, fork held in one hand, smiling in a relieved sort of way at Sodapop. Her brow furrowed. Was he trying to hide something?  
  
"And what grade are you in - is it Soda?"  
  
"Yeah, actually it's Sodapop. My Dad was really into original names, like you can probably tell with Ponyboy," Soda laughed nervously. "Now that's an original name. But everyone always calls me Soda. It's easier I guess. Well, that or Pepsi-Cola but only some people call me that and it's not really a name I like all the time and Soda's better, well, I mean, it's shorter and all my friend's call me that, so you can call me Soda."  
  
Millie almost laughed. They were so tense!  
  
"Okay then Soda."  
  
Darry breathed once more. He'd been clenching the fork so tightly that he'd left a mark in his hand, he was so terrified she'd find out that Sodapop was a dropout. He grinned crazily at Millie and she smiled back at him, smoothing his fears.  
  
"So, where do you work Mr. Curtis?"  
  
"It's Darry," Ponyboy chimed.  
  
"Um," Darry said, glaring at Ponyboy. "I work roofing houses-"  
  
"Oh!" Millie cried suddenly. "That's perfect! The roof on my roommate's and my place always leaks when it rains. Could you give me the name of your company?"  
  
Darry shook his head. "Oh, don't. They'll make you wait forever to come and fix your roof. And there's a storm coming up pretty soon. You're safer to buy and book and get someone you know to fix your roof."  
  
"Or Darry could do it. He's really good at roofing houses. You know, because he's got so many muscles. He used to play football and he works out so he's really strong."  
  
Three pairs of eyes stared at Ponyboy, three mouths silent and agape. He gave them an innocent look and went back to eating chicken.  
  
"I wouldn't want to impose," Millie said slowly.  
  
"Oh no. It's no trouble," Darry replied quickly. "I'm not too busy this week if you wanted me to go over.?"  
  
"That would be great."  
  
After dinner, Sodapop offered himself and Ponyboy to do the dishes, so Darry could give her the grand tour.  
  
Ponyboy watched Darry leave through narrowed eyes, before Soda slid up beside him and pinched him viciously.  
  
"Ow! What the-"  
  
"I know what you're trying to do," Soda said in a low voice.  
  
Ponyboy stiffened. "I dunno what you're talking about," he mumbled.  
  
"Don't give me bull. You're trying to set them up!"  
  
Ponyboy cringed.  
  
Soda gave him a reproving look. "Listen. You have to make it less obvious, or else they'll catch on and it'll never happen. Getting them together was a good move, but the muscles thing was overdoing it."  
  
Ponyboy stared. "You mean you agree?"  
  
Soda nodded sagely. "Darry never goes out. Never dates. Never has any fun. No brother of mine is gonna spend his life a virgin."  
  
~  
  
"And this is the boys' room." Millie stepped into the cramped space. She smiled at the drawings and the posters of Elvis. Just like any boy's room.  
  
"Only one bed?"  
  
"They share," Darry said lightly. "They're too CLOSE to SEPARATE."  
  
Millie rolled her eyes. "I may as well tell you, Mr. Curtis-"  
  
"Darry."  
  
"I may as well tell you, Darry, that I have no intention of splitting the three of you up. You appear to be a loving family, and you're not lacking too much in resources. Everything seems fine. Unless you're concealing something?"  
  
Darry shook his head. "No, nothing. We're everything you see here. There's nothing weird about us at all-"  
  
"What's this?"  
  
Millie's soft tone made Darry stop short. She was looking intently at a piece of paper on Ponyboy's desk.  
  
"'Hood turned Hero'?" She looked up shocked. "That was YOUR Ponyboy?"  
  
"Uh."  
  
"Oh, I knew I'd heard that name somewhere! This is unbelievable! You've raised a hero!" Millie beamed at him. Then she went quiet. "Uh, I mean, from what I can see you've done a spectacular job of raising these boys. Sodapop is an absolute sweetheart, and Ponyboy - well you can tell he had a good upbringing."  
  
Darry was speechless.  
  
Millie looked down. "Well, I should be going. I guess.I'll call you for about the roofing."  
  
Darry nodded. "O-okay. Sure. See ya."  
  
"See ya," she echoed, slowly brushed by him, and left. 


	13. Chapter 13

We're Back Chapter 13  
  
A/N: I've completely lost track of time in this story. Well not completely. But I might have screwed myself into the ground with dates. Sorry to anyone who actually notices.  
  
P.S. This one's short. I think.  
  
"I am calling concerning your court hearing."  
  
Eleanor clutched the phone to her ear, chewing Dally's thumbnail to bits.  
  
"This isn't going to be very long is it?" she asked nervously.  
  
The man at the other end laughed. "No, no.we hope not. Of course, there's no telling what the public may do to stall things. But hopefully we'll have you in, find out the problem and send you back with your folks all safe and sound in under an hour."  
  
"But there won't be anyone watching-"  
  
"Only family," the man said firmly. "No press."  
  
Eleanor breathed easier. "And I have to stay here at the hospital until then?"  
  
"You need to stay at the hospital as long as the doctors say you should. Otherwise, your job is to show up here this Friday."  
  
"THIS FRIDAY?!" Eleanor's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't known Social Services would work so speedily.  
  
"Anything for the Miracle Boy," the man chuckled. Eleanor suppressed the urge to gag.  
  
She hung up, after carefully copying down the directions to her hearing. She'd be there, and she'd be walking. Dally's body may have been dead for 6 months, but it had been well preserved, and anyway, Eleanor hadn't even been dead really. She'd be out of the hospital in no time. 'Maybe I can get a haircut before Friday,' she thought, pulling back the tow-coloured strands into a ponytail. She let her hair tumble down, and laughed at her reflection in the bedside mirror. She could be a hippie with hair that long. Carefully she tied a strip of gauze around her forehead and flashed two fingers at the mirror.  
  
"Can I help you with anything Mr. Winston?" A nurse stood in the doorway, a puzzled frown on her red lips.  
  
"Peace," Eleanor told her.  
  
~  
  
Johnny woke slowly, a smile flickering across his face as he caught sight of the beautiful day outside. Birds chirping, sun shining.Johnny tried to sit up to get a better view. His body felt stiff and unused, creaking painfully as he tried to straighten his spine.  
  
"Owwww." he grumbled, reaching one hand behind to feel his back. It seemed alright until he reached a spot in his spine where it suddenly changed. Frowning, he patted what felt like a metal plate embedded in his back. What the hell was wrong with it?  
  
".broken.in 2 places." Johnny's dark eyes widened as a sudden memory surfaced in his mind. He caught sight of his surroundings suddenly, the clean, pristine, and very white decoration scheme of a hospital, and it all began to come back to him.  
  
"Oh my god," he whispered. He sat frozen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, hardly daring to believe it could all be real.  
  
Tap, tap, tap.  
  
His eyes flicked to the door.  
  
"C-come in," he called hoarsely, his voice cracking.  
  
The door clicked open, and a familiar face poked in. The boy's jaw dropped and his blue eyes grew bright.  
  
"Johnny?!" he gasped, then flew at the bed, catching the boy in a tight hug. Johnny winced feeling old muscles stretch but hugged his friend back anyway.  
  
"Hey Sodapop." 


	14. Chapter 14

We're Back Chapter 14  
  
  
  
A/N: Finally, got off my lazy butt and wrote the next part. Here it is! More on Johnny here too!  
  
P.S. Okay. Since it's been three lifetimes since I've updated, you're bound to have forgotten who a certain "Mr. Brown" is. If you have, please look back at Chapter... Oh hell. He's the guy who talks to Dally about his court hearing and his parents.  
  
~  
  
"You know you really didn't have to do this."  
  
"Shut up," Darry hissed through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure if it was because they'd given him drugs or because he hadn't said a word for 6 months, but Dally had been a regular old chatterbox during the entire trip from the hospital.  
  
"Wow! The sky sure if blue around here," Dally rolled down the passenger side window. "Man, this place is pretty."  
  
Soda shook his head, completely speechless. He'd never known Dally to be so.well.happy.  
  
"Thanks for the ride," he said absently, pushing back his still-uncut hair.  
  
"You're welcome for the 100th time," Darry replied rolling his eyes. "And since when are you so polite?"  
  
"Since now. Ooh, can we get ice-cream?"  
  
Soda closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "It's the morphine, just the morphine working," he muttered to himself. He still couldn't believe how upbeat Dally was.  
  
"Maybe after. You have to get to your hearing."  
  
Dally slumped down in his seat. "Oh GOD, I don't wanna do this."  
  
"Don't worry man," Soda said reassuringly. "We went to one awhile ago and it's not as weird as you'd think."  
  
"Yeah but what if my parents are real freaks?"  
  
Darry stopped the car and turned to Dally.  
  
"So what else is new? You never liked your parents anyway, at least, that's what I got from what you said about them, which was mighty little. They were abusive, half-witted alcoholics who you HATED. This is the stop, get out. Good luck by the way."  
  
"Gee, thanks," Dally muttered and climbed out of the car.  
  
"See you later Dal!" Soda yelled out the back window as Darry tore out of the parking lot.  
  
~  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
Green line up.  
  
Beep.  
  
Green line down.  
  
Beep. Beep.  
  
'I'm going to go fucking nuts.'  
  
Johnny moaned trying to turn over on the bed and again finding out that it was impossible, due to the pain in his back and the spider-web of wires connecting him to every conceivable noise making machine in the entire hospital.  
  
Blaaaaa. Blaaa.  
  
Chugg-chugga-chug..gerp.  
  
'Dear diary, today listened to the equivalent of Dally on censored TV.'  
  
There came a knock on the door.  
  
"COME IN!" Johnny nearly bellowed, desperate for someone or something to take his mind off the horrible nasty, nasty machines.  
  
"Housekeeping!" said a breathy, over-tinkly, girlish voice, and in stepped Two-Bit. He was wearing a long white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He grinned smugly at Johnny. "How's the patient?"  
  
Johnny laughed and then winced, as pain lanced through his back. "Bored, a little, actually. Nice coat."  
  
Two-Bit's expression changed from the usually "duh-funny" look to one of concern. "Bored? Need a hooker or something?"  
  
Johnny grinned back and rolled his eyes. "I'm Johnny Two-Bit, not Dallas," he replied, with uncharacteristic cheek. "Um. By the way.How is he?" Johnny asked, trying to keep up his new-found attitude, but unconsciously slipping back to his soft, shy voice.  
  
Two-Bit shrugged. "Should be okay."  
  
"Do you know what he's.doing.these days?" Johnny asked casually, while secretly thinking: 'Why hasn't he been to see me? Why? WHY?'  
  
Two-Bit looked alarmed. "Glory, he hasn't told you?"  
  
"Actually, haven't seen him. Heard a lot from Soda about him though." 'Not enough. Where has he been?'  
  
Two-Bit stared. "He told me he was going to see you yesterday before his court hearing."  
  
"Court hearing? What court hearing?" 'Why didn't he tell me?'  
  
Two-Bit waved a hand carelessly. "It's not about something he did. It's about his parents. He's not 18 yet, technically cause he was.you know.not.alive for all 18 years. And there was some problem with him staying at home.there'll probably be a whole bunch more court stuff though, seeing as he died breaking a law."  
  
Johnny's next questions died on his lips. "He died breaking a law." 'Oh fuck,' Johnny thought, as it slowly dawned on him what it really meant for him to be alive.  
  
He drew a breath. "Two-Bit?" he asked, his voice quivering. "Did anyone say anything about me, maybe, being in trouble?"  
  
Two-Bit squawked in surprise. "No! No, I mean, they solved it all with Ponyboy before! I mean, they figured out it was self-defense and Ponyboy didn't get any time.but.I mean, I dunno what they're doing with you." Two- Bit looked down. "I mean, they probably won't do anything." He gave Johnny an overly cheerful smile. "They probably forgot all about it."  
  
A rap on the door made both boys turn.  
  
A man wearing a suit and tie and carrying a brief case entered. "Excuse me," he said wearily. "My name is Mr. Brown." 


End file.
